There Are Some Things Just Meant to Be
by EJ Sanders
Summary: Lewis was just minding his own business, inventing as usual, when a familiar face shows up one day. It was supposed to be a joyful reunion. So then, why is his friend so unhappy? The answer will send him to the edge of time and back.
1. Chapter 1

Author Disclaimer: Do not own any of the characters from Disney's Meet the Robinson's...but i love the movie to death....Death!

* * *

Chapter 1:

The sound of metal cranking. A twist of a bolt here. A wire needing stripping there. From below the gray contraption, only a spike of golden hair can be seen. It weaves left. Weaves right. Then, a hand shoots up and grabs the cup of yogurt left standing on top of this new machine.

"I think that's it. Hopefully this'll be the last time." The thirteen year old boy stands up and closes the hatch, being careful to push all the wires back in. He wipes the sweat of his forehead, only to smear oil across his face.

"Here goes nothing." He crosses his fingers and pushes the bright red button.

It begins to shake, make a high-pitched sound, then stop. A latch opens and the boy smiles.

"Yes! I've done it. The world's most perfect cup of yogurt." He grabs a spoon and digs in. A smile spreads across his face. "Hmm, delicious."

"Now that's a weird reason to invent something, Lewis."

"Well, you can never really appreciate yogurt unless it's made just right. The correct proportions of dairy, fermentation time, and even fruit acidity. I mean, if you're going to eat something, might as well…" He stops. Realization seeps slowly into his face. He slowly turns around to see the familiar boy with black hair curled like a swirly in the front. With that same familiar lightning bolt shirt.

"Might as well what, Lewis?" The all too familiar smirk that exudes youthful confidence. The boy leans against the door with his arms across his chest.

"Wilbur!" He runs and embraces the taller boy. He doesn't notice that the arms embracing him back are clutching him tighter than usual.

"What are you doing here? I thought we agreed that you shouldn't come back."

"Well…_that_ is an excellent question." The expression on his face falls.

"Wilbur…what's wrong? You don't seem very happy to see me."

"No, I'm just really tired. Been pretty busy lately." He smiles but Lewis notices that it doesn't fully reach his eyes.

"Oh…okay. Sit down then. Do you want a yogurt?" Wilbur chooses a spot on the floor

"Sure…dad." The boy returns with two cups and hands one to Wilbur.

"Hope you don't mind strawberry!"

"Actually it's my favorite! You know Lewis, if this inventor thing doesn't work out for you, you and me could get into the food industry. I can see it now." He flourishes his hands into the air like he's wont to do. "Cornelius and son! Has a nice ring to it."

Lewis laughs. "I'll take that into consideration. If only the future wasn't at stake hahaha."

"Just opening up your options there, buddy." Again, he becomes crestfallen. "May be doing something other than inventing could be good for you."

"Nah, I thought about it and I wouldn't be able to live if I wasn't inventing. You don't know what it's like. All these ideas in my head screaming at me, wanting to be the next thing chosen to be invented." He scoops another spoonful into his mouth. "And Carl, he is definitely screaming quite loudly now that I've finished this machine."

"Yeah…I kinda thought I wouldn't be able to change your mind."

"Hey, are you going to be sleeping over tonight. I'll have to ask Lucille and Bud if…I mean, mom and dad…if you can stay over."

"Still having trouble eh?" Wilbur smirks.

"Yeah, it's so weird. I've never had to say that before." A smile blossoms on the blond's face. "But it's not bad."

"Okay, let's go meet 'em."

* * *

"Oh! Who do you got there, son?" Bud looks up from his notes.

"Oh, this is Wilbur. He's a good friend of mine from a while back. Can he please stay over tonight, please?"

"Sure son, why ever not? The more the merrier I say!"

"Thank you sir, you won't hear a peep from us. We'll be quiet like mice… or like cockroaches…or like…" Wilbur continued naming several inconspicuous critters not worth mentioning.

"Woohoo, now what's the fun in that?" He stands up and, as usual, his clothes were not on correctly. The stray tuft of hair bobbing to and fro. "Come with me, and I'll introduce you to my wife!"

They walk down a few hallways. On the way, Wilbur notices that whole walls were missing, as if a mallet had been used to redecorate.

"Sorry about the mess. With all of Cornelius's inventions, we don't seem to have enough room to put them in. So we asked ourselves, 'Why not? Let's add a few more hundred rooms to the house!'"

They stop at a pink door. "I think my wife is baking cookies."

Bud opens the door to reveal a woman in an apron attending a stove.

"Lucille, how are those cookies going?"

"Just a few more minutes!" She notices Wilbur across the door. "And who might this gentleman be?"

"I'm Wilbur. Lewis's friend from class. I'll be staying here the next few days if you don't mind." He smiles shyly.

"We don't mind at all. I mean with all of Cornelius's school work, not to mention his thesis and invention time, I was beginning to wonder when he'd have time for things like friends." She smiles right back. "So…thank you for coming."

Wilbur sees Lewis beaming at both of his adopted parents. "No problem Mrs. Robinson…it's my pleasure."

"So Wilbur? What major are you in?" Bud asks him.

"…What?"

"Well, you said, you two met in class. That must mean you attend university right? You must be a genius too to be where you are at this age."

"Uhh…" He looks over at Lewis who looks at him in a panic as well.

"Did we say we met in class, I meant…" Wilbur tries to stutter an answer only for a ring to interrupt him.

"Oh, cookies are done!" She puts the oven mitts on and takes the cookie sheet from the stove. "When I find myself sleeping for a few days after being awake for a week, it seems that a cookie craving is a long term side effect of the caffeine patch! Dig in everyone."

Lucille then proceeds to stuff as many cookies as she can into her mouth.

"The mark of a great woman I would say!" And as usual, Bud proceeds to play with the two cookies in his hands.

Wilbur looks at his dad again, happy for the love that seems to radiate from him. The younger boy had changed since the first day he had met him.

Lewis catches his eyes and smiles. "Here, have some before Lucille eats them all!"

* * *

"You sleep in the lab?"

It was dark already. The moon was high and the stars can be seen shining through the glass dome that was the ceiling.

"Well, I can be up a few days and nights on a certain invention and when I'm done, I just collapse here. So mom and dad put a bed up for emergencies." Lewis fluffs a pillow and throws it at the unsuspecting boy. "Whoops sorry, hehe."

The pillow slowly slides down from his face, and his look of disbelief transforms into a mischievous grin. "Oh no. You won't get away with that so easily. There needs to be punishment!"

Wilbur begins to assault the smaller boy with dual handed pillows until he falls to the floor in a fit of laughter. "Wait, stop. Haha! Wilbur!"

And he begins to retaliate. "I may not know karate but I do know how to…" He looks around the room and picks up the machine from the desk. "How to use this!"

He points the machine at Wilbur, who stops and drops the pillows to the floor. He raises his hands in the air. "I surrender! Don't use that."

"Well! Too late. Feel the awesome might of PB and J." The machine whirls threateningly…then dies. "Jammed again!"

The two boys collapse on the beds in a heap of giggles. "This is so much fun, Wilbur. Just hanging out like this. Not having the world or the future in danger. I like this."

"Yeah…me too." Lewis claps his hands and the lights turn off. The moon and the stars come into full contrast.

"Good night then Wilbur." Lewis rolls onto his side and tries to get a few hours of much needed sleep.

"…Lewis…to be honest I used to sleep like this in my parents room when I was younger. I…I was scared of the dark."

Lewis opens his eyes and looks at the dark shadow beside him.

"You? Really? I never would've guessed." They whisper softly.

"Yeah. My parents didn't care so I slept with them for a couple of years…it felt just like this...right next to you."

Lewis begins to sense it. In the dark, away from sight, his hearing increases, and he notices the sadness in his voice.

"Wilbur…why_ are_ you here? Did…did something happen? Why do you sound so sad?"

There's no reply. "Wilbur?"

"Goodnight…dad." He sees the shadow move on to its side.

"Wilbur…" The questions begin to gnaw at him. "Tell me Wilbur."

But the boy was already asleep, snoring loudly in the darkness.

* * *

Note: Well that's the first chapter ladies and gents. Tell me if you like it, don't like it, indifferent maybe. And perhaps a reason why. I do want to improve my writing somehow. Keep moving Forward, as they say.

The story is basically finished in my head and I've written a few chapters so far. I'm planning to release one chapter a week because finals are killing me at the moment though I am going at a pace of one chapter written and one chapter edited per day.

So cross your fingers and I hope you like how the story will unfold.

Thank you very much for your time.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Do not own characters etc.

And thank you very much TowaNeko for your encouragement. I usually write only for my amusement so when I get these sort of things I feel a tickle where my heart used to be.

* * *

Chapter 2:

Wilbur wakes to the sun glaring into his eyes and the sound of machinery. He pushes the blanket away and looks at the blond, busy soldering over another invention on his desk.

"Lewis, what are you doing?" He groans and looks at the clock. "It is 8 in the morning. Go back to sleep."

"Oh…huh?" Lewis snaps out of his daze. "Wilbur…you're awake! 8 o'clock already? I've been up since dawn 'cause I had a great idea for a new integrated circuit. Wouldn't this make a great birthday present for mom?"

"Lewis…please…this is cruel and unusual punishment…just another hour." He buries his face under a pillow.

"Can't. Cousin Lazlo and Tallulah will be coming over in about half an hour." He looks over the circuit board one more time before stashing it inside a drawer.

Wilbur slowly stands up and drags himself slowly down the stairs. "I'm going to go and get a shower then."

He yawns and disappears from sight.

"I should be going down as well." Lewis looks at the blankets on the floor and sighs. "He could've at least put his stuff away."

As he takes the blanket in his hands, he feels something underneath them. "What's this?"

A photograph lay underneath the sheets. It is a slightly crumpled picture of Wilbur smiling, holding a large fish in the air. And there he is. The older Cornelius was holding onto the fishing pole, his other arm resting tightly on his son's shoulder. Lewis only sees the pride etched in his older self's face.

"Hey Wilbur! I think you forgot something!" No answer. "Oh well."

He places the picture in his pocket before descending down the stairs himself.

* * *

"Cornelius!" All he saw was a fiery, orange ball rush up to meet him in a hug. "Tell Lazlo to stop painting a mess in my room!"

"Cornelius it wasn't a mess! It was 'Starry Night'. Tell _her_ to pipe down and stop being so dramatic"

"Hey guys. How old are you now? Nine? Ten? I thought you would have been grown up enough to at least not get on each other's nerves," Lewis explains only to be countered, "But He/She started it!"

"Okay…" He looks at the door to see Wilbur looking bemused. "Tallulah? Do you think that what your brother did was pretty?"

"Uh…yeah, now that I think about it…"

"Good, then it shouldn't be a problem right! Just think of it as a birthday gift from your brother…especially just for you." He turns to the other boy wearing goggles. "And Lazlo, don't you think you should've asked your sister if you could paint her room. I mean how would you feel if she just redecorated your room without your permission."

"I would get really angry…" He scratches the floor with his shoes.

"Okay guys. Now you two understand each other, shake hands and say you're sorry."

"Do we have to?" They ask in unison. Lewis slowly crosses his arms and gives them a menacing look.

"Alright! We're sorry! We're sorry!"

"Okay, that's good. Now run along and get ready. We're gonna go out and get ice cream."

"Yay! Cornelius, you're the best, we really love you!" They jump in the air and run out to get ready. Lewis sighs and smiles at Wilbur. "Well…that was easy."

Wilbur looks at the 13 year old boy and sees the man that he will one day become. Through all of that, Wilbur begins to remember a memory he'd thought long forgotten.

* * *

Flashback:

"Dad!" Young Wilbur crashed into the laboratory and with his face wet with tears.

"Dad…I…hic!"

He began to hiccup and couldn't finish his sentence.

"Calm down Wilbur!" He embraced the child into his arms and patted his head until he caught his breath. "Now, slowly, tell me what happened."

"They…they called me swirly head!" And the boy began a new bout of sobbing.

"Who's they?"

"The other kids at school!"

"Now why would they call you that?"

"Because hic…because…hic…because of this stupid thing!" He pointed to the spike of hair he had inherited from his mother. "Can't you invent something dad? Hic…something to get this off. I hate it!"

He watched his dad smile. The warmest smile he had ever seen. "Oh, you don't like it? But your mom and I picked that just for you."

Wilbur had always liked his father's voice. That deep resounding sound that seemed to comfort him. "You…you did?"

"Yeah. Do you want to hear the story?" Wilbur nodded, unable to speak.

"When you were born, your mom and I just looked at you and wished that you would grow up to be a sweet boy." Cornelius stroked the tuft of hair. "And what do you know, it came true…you became a sweet boy. Our little ice cream baby."

"Daaaad," the child sighed through his tears. "I'm not a baby anymore."

"No you're not…but you'll always be my son. And my favorite one at that!" He picked the boy up.

"That's because I'm your _only_ son."

"Are you? Just a minor oversight." His father laughed deeply, and to Wilbur, it seemed that everything became right with the world once again.

"Don't cry now, okay?" Cornelius wiped the tears from the boy's face. "You want me to tell you another secret?"

"Uh-huh."

"Whenever you're sad, I get sad too."

"Really daddy?"

"Yeah, really." And Wilbur proceeded to wrap his arms around his father's neck.

"Please, don't be sad daddy. See! I'm not sad anymore." Cornelius could only utter a small chuckle as the boy sniffed.

"You know what would make us feel better?" He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"What?" Wlbur also whispered excitedly.

"A little ice cream."

"Won't mom get mad?"

"Not if she doesn't know." He put his son down and took his hand. "Come on. I know this great place by the park."

Wilbur could still remember it now. The way his father's hand had felt so large and warm…and so protective.

* * *

"Hey Wilbur! Snap out of it!"

"Huh? What? Oh…sorry, Lewis!" Wilbur takes the ice cream cone proffered to him. "Oh…you didn't have to get me anything."

The four Robinsons sit in the park, enjoying the sun and the cool morning breeze. Two of them, specifically Tallulah and Lazlo, sit a little off by themselves, an argument already in the works.

"No problem. Just think of it as a treat from father to son." Pain lances through Wilbur's chest, and it shows on his face. "Is something the matter?"

"Hahaha! That's an excellent question?" He licks the top off in one go. "Are you sure…I mean, I can give you some money. But i gotta warn you. You won't be able to use it for another thirty years or so."

He begins to rummage in his pocket, when Lewis notices his eyes widening.

"Oh no…" Wilbur states in a whisper. He looks between his legs. To the left and right. "Lewis, I need to go back to the house."

"But we just got here!"

"I'm sorry but I gotta go. Just a little emergency. I'll see ya later." Before he goes, Lewis catches his arm.

"Wilbur. There's something you haven't been telling me. I expect you to tell me. And you _will_ tell me soon." He takes a few bills and hands them over. "Here's some money for the cab ride home. I wasn't expecting you to run all the way home now, was I?"

"…Thank you, Lewis."

* * *

The lab was now in shambles. Drawers were emptied, and their contents continue to pile up haphazardly on the floor.

Wilbur throws the pillows and blankets open. He kneels on the floor on all fours to look in the nooks and crannies under machines too heavy to lift. He rummages the garbage cans, sifting through mounds of discarded blue prints.

"Oh, God. Did I lose it?" The thought finally sinks in. "No! I couldn't have. I would never lose it! Think Wil Robinson! Think! Where else could it be?"

"Ahem…" His thoughts are broken by that familiar cough. His father's way of gaining his attention.

"Are you looking for this…by any chance?" Lewis waves the photo in the air.

"Please, Lewis. Give that back to me."

"Not unless you promise that you will tell me why you are here."

"I promise, so please, just hand it over." He grabs the photo and clutches it to his chest.

Lewis takes a seat by his desk, crossing both his arms and his legs. "I'm waiting."

Wilbur doesn't take his eyes off the photo. With his finger, he traces an imaginary line between his father and himself.

"You always were a smart kid, Lewis," he sighs. "So I might as well tell you."

Wilbur sits on the bed looking at the blond boy in front of him. "I didn't know the reason why...or the full story behind it all. To tell you the truth, everything's been a daze for me for the last week. But one thing is certain...my father…you, Lewis…you died."

Lewis hangs his head and sighs, "...I _thought_ you were going to say that."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's disclaimer: Same as usual...you know what, I don't even understand why I put this up...except maybe for the fear of severe litigation.

Note: Thank you guys for the reviews. They feed and sustain me like manna in the desert. And to others reading this, your reviews/ comments are welcome and greatly appreciated. Love it/hate it, praises/something's just bugging you, as long as I can learn what to keep and what to throw away.

I have finals coming up so basically two weeks of my life will be "dedicated" to actual school work. So for your viewing pleasure (I hope), I'm going to put up two chapters this week. Already working on chapter 7 if anybody wants to know....though I doubt it.

* * *

Chapter 3: The Raindrop Prelude

"Wilbur, I'm sorry your dad couldn't be here."

"That's okay…not like this is the first time he hasn't come." And yet still, he couldn't stop that bitterness from leaving his mouth.

"This just isn't like your father," Franny said.

"Well, people change mom."

"You played well though! That's at least something to celebrate about."

"What are you talking about?" He threw his hands into the air. "I let five guys get past me. How is that any good?"

"It's not?" Franny mentally berated herself for not knowing that much about the sport. "But you know, you just have to keep moving forward. You'll get to where you wanna be someday."

He grunted an assent as he got into the car. Franny started the engine, and as it came to life, the first drops of rain began to fall.

"Maybe next time. I know your dad will come next time."

"I'll try not to be too excited, mom."

* * *

"You're not coming home today either? But you promised to come home tonight!" Franny continued to berate over the phone. "You also promised your son that you'd be at his game today."

Even with his headphones on, and music set at ear piercingly loud, he couldn't drown out the sounds. He couldn't remember his parents ever fighting this much. Yes, they had their fights, but this month was the worst in recorded Robinson history.

Someone shook him, and when he opened his eyes, Franny handed him the phone. Grandma Lucille stood behind her to comfort her. He turned off the music and took off the headpiece.

"Your father wants to talk to you."

"…Do I have to?" She nodded her head.

He placed the phone to his ear. "Dad…"

"Hey son. How're you doing?" He couldn't help but hear the fatigue in his voice.

"Fine." He didn't want to tell the man that he cared. That he had hurt him.

"How was the game?"

"It was okay."

A moment of silence. "I'm sorry son. I promise to go next…"

"That's ten times now."

"I'm sorry." Wilbur could feel his anger boiling. _Did the man have no shame?_

"That's also the number of times you've apologized."

"I'm sorry…but I'm doing something important at the moment. When it's done we'll…"

"You don't have to come to the games anymore." Wilbur regretted those words coming from his mouth. He'd thought about saying it. How freeing it would have been to just tell him off. But the reality was different. It was more painful than he could have possibly imagined.

"What?"

He couldn't take back those words. "I know you don't like to go to them."

"But I do! I love to see you play!"

"Then why won't you come?"

"As I said, I'm busy at the moment with something important."

"But can't you free up some time? I haven't seen you in two months dad! Can't you just do this…for me?"

"…I'm sorry. But not right now son."

Wilbur's breath hitched, and it was out of his mouth before he could stop to think. "I hate you…"

"…I'm sorry."

Those words broke through him, and he began to scream a litany of them. He thought he could keep saying them forever hoping that all his disappointments and frustrations could fuel his hatred. Even as his lungs began to burn like it was on fire, he kept yelling on the phone. Even as his tears began to fall. "I hate you! I hate you!"

And his father kept silent.

Once it was over, all his hatred went away. He felt empty except for the soul crushing grief now growing inside his chest.

"Feel better son?" Cornelius voice was barely a whisper.

Wilbur disconnected the call and threw the phone against the wall. The door opened and Franny entered. The rest of the family looked worried from across the doorway.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah mom. I'm fine." He smiled as his vision blurred. "I…I just got something in my eye."

"Then…if you need anything, just call me."

Wilbur nodded. "Sure, mom. I just need to sleep. That's all."

* * *

He woke up to the blare of sirens and flashing lights of blues and reds. He dragged himself to the window and saw the police cars idling in front of the house. Franny went out to meet them. They spoke a few words to her, and Wilbur watched as she collapsed to the floor.

"Mom!" He ran out of his room and down the stairs. As he passed the living room, he saw both his grandparents watching the television. Grandma Lucille was crying.

_Update! It has been several hours since disaster struck Robinson Industries._

Wilbur stopped and peered through the doorway. Disaster?

_"We're taking you to the scene live, where only a few hours ago, an explosion occurred triggering the fire that is ravaging the Robinson's corporate office. Reporter at the scene, Pat Williams with the story. Pat?" _

"Grandpa…is dad…?"

Bud shook his head. "Don't know yet. But I'm worried…he should've called us by now."

_"Thank you Chris. A few hours ago, the city was awakened by a blast centered in Robinson Industries. Firefighters are doing their best to control the spread of the fire to other buildings, but it doesn't seem to be dying out any time soon."_

The front door closed. Lefty supported his mother as she entered the living room and sat on her favorite chair. He looked at her, hoping that she would say something. Anything.

_"Reports are now coming in that all employees have been accounted for…wait! Except for one!"_

Wilbur's heart skipped a beat. "No, please…"

_"It seems that world-renowned inventor, Cornelius Robinson has been reported missing. Sources say that other employees mark him at the scene of the explosion, which police are now saying originated from his office."_

He kept looking at his mother, begging her with her eyes for all of this to not be true. But her face was pale, and her gaze was looking at something far beyond him.

Lucille whimpered, "This can't be happening."

* * *

The police returned the next day and the family came together to hear the news.

"We're starting an investigation to find out what happened to your husband ma'am," the officer sat down across from them. "But to be honest, he's being presumed dead. It's just a matter of time until the fire dies down and we can confirm that."

"But…you're not a hundred percent sure right?" Franny could barely keep it together.

And Wilbur, who had waited throughout the night, watching the news as each update was released, felt each bit of hope sliding away from him.

"No ma'am. We are not but some of the employees and his own colleagues report that on the night of the explosion he had locked the door to his office and that no one was to come inside. As far as they know, no one got in, and no one got out. They also say that he was very agitated and upset just minutes before the explosion occurred. "

"Wait…what are you saying?" She asked. Wilbur's breathing began to quicken. Only sheer force of will was keeping him from hyperventilating.

"Ma'am. Was there any trouble at home recently? Any sign of mental instability? Or…"

"How dare you!" Wilbur screamed, got off the chair, and slammed his hands on the table.

"Wilbur! Calm down!" Carl was trying to hold him back.

"No! You're implying that dad did this! That my dad was insane and blew up his own office! Well, he wasn't!"

"Well if not insane, then we may be left with either an accident, no matter how unlikely, or suicide...Was he depressed lately? Doing or acting strangely maybe---"

Wilbur felt himself fall back into the chair as memories of the last few weeks resurfaced. _My dad would never...oh God. It's me...  
_

He couldn't breathe. Each gasp, each inhale felt like vacuum.

Uncle Gaston was on him, offering him a paper bag. "Slow down Wilbur. Just concentrate on my voice little guy."

He could only cry now.

"Please officer, just go." Franny placed her arms around her son who was sobbing uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry if I've caused you and your family any distress." He stood up from his chair and left.

"Oh God, mom. What if dad wasn't alright last night? It's my fault. It's all my fault!"

"No it's not Wilbur."

"Yes, it is! I told him that I hated him. What if that was it? What if he really thought I hated him? I shouldn't have pushed him so hard...I shouldn't have..."

Art placed his hand on top of Wilbur's head. "Wilbur…you're dad is the most…level headed man I know… He's also the smartest… I think he knew you didn't mean it."

But those simple words could not ease his pain.

"It hurts! It hurts so much! I can't stand it. I feel like I'm going to die!" He screamed inside his head. "It's my fault!"

* * *

His father's body was buried a few days later. Reporters came and went. It became a worldwide day of mourning. Why wouldn't it, when the father of the future, the man who had single-handedly invented the greatest advancements in the history of mankind, died?

It was raining then too. Wilbur couldn't feel the drops on his face or the way that each one was as cold as ice. He was numb to everything around him.

He could barely stand, and his legs gave way as they placed the first patches of soil back over the casket. Uncle Art held him so he wouldn't fall to the ground. "Be strong little man. Make your dad proud."

The casket had been a kept closed the entire time. Lazlo had gone to confirm the body. It had been too charred to recognize, and no one wanted to be subjected to having their last memories of Cornelius be of his ghastly remains.

When all was said and prayers done, they left, and all Wilbur could do was comply as he was half carried to the car. They didn't notice the man who stood in front of them.

"Mrs. Robinson. My name is Jonathan Sommers. I worked very closely with your husband."

"Yes, I recognized you Mr. Sommers. My husband thought very highly of you."

"Thank you Mrs. Robinson, but I'm not here to exchange pleasantries. I have a very important message for you."

"From who?"

"It's from your husband."

* * *

Notes: Another cliff hanger.... just to tick some people off haha. Well on to the next chapter.

P.S. Huge amounts of respect if you know where the title comes from...no cheating now.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Please, don't forget to imagine a 6 or 7 year old Wilbur in pajamas as you read this interlude. Just a small break from all that seriousness. Hopefully not too fluffy. Thank you.

* * *

Chapter 4:

"Wilbur, have you brushed your teeth?"

"Yeah dad." The little boy snuggled under the thick blankets.

"Goodnight then, son." Cornelius, still wearing his white lab coat, went to turn off the lights.

"Wait! Can't you stay…just for a little bit? Just until I go to sleep."

"I thought you said you were too old now to be afraid of the dark."

"I'm not afraid," he huffed. "I just miss you that's all."

"Oh, alright. You want me to tell you a bedtime story."

"Dad! I'm too old for bedtime stories!"

"Too old for that too?" Cornelius laughed and sat down on the bed beside him. "Then what do you want me to do, young prince?"

"That's an excellent question." He mulled it over for a few seconds. "We did poems in class today. I thought they were nice."

"So you want me to recite poetry for you?"

"Yes please!" Cornelius could hear him smiling in the dark.

"Okay…let me see if I can remember one. It's been a while, you know."

"Just try your most best."

"Okay, this is one of my favorites…ahem…_There will come soft rains_." Cornelius possessed a beautiful rhythm to his voice; the reason Wilbur had wanted him to recite. "_And the smell of the ground. And swallows circling with their shimmering sound. And frogs in the pools, singing at night. And wild plum trees, in tremulous white. Robins will wear their feathery fire. Whistling their whims on a low fence wire_."

Wilbur felt his father stroking hair in the darkness and giggled as he felt the butterflies in his tummy.

"_And not one will know of the war, not one will care at last, when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, if mankind perished utterly. And Spring herself, when she awoke at dawn, would scarcely know, that we were gone_."

The last words hung in the air for Wilbur. He stayed quiet, hoping that there was more to it than just that. "That was very sad, daddy."

"I'm sorry. I'm not a very good poem reciter, am I?"

"You are! Tell me another one. But a happier one this time."

"Okay, okay! Give me a sec here to think…ahem…_We are the music makers. And we are the dreamers of dreams. Wandering by lone sea breakers, and sitting by desolate streams. World-losers and world-forsakers, upon whom the pale moon gleams; yet we are the movers and the shakers, of the world forever it seems_."

"_With wonderful deathless ditties, we build the world's great cities, and out of a fabulous story, we fashion an empire's glory. One man with a dream, at pleasure, shall go forth and conquer a crown. And three with a new song's measure, can trample an empire down_."

"_We, in the ages lying, in the buried past of the earth, built Nineveh with our sighing, and Babel itself with our mirth. And o'erthrow them with prophesying, to the old of the new world's worth. For each age is a dream that is dying, or one that is coming to birth_."

"That one was good daddy." Wilbur yawned.

"Is that all you wanted, my prince?" He couldn't help but play fondly with the spike on his son's head.

"No…one more." Wilbur shifted again, his breathing becoming deeper and softer.

"But I don't know anymore."

"Make one up then." He yawned again; a longer and fuller yawn this time.

"I'm really bad at rhyming."

"Pleeeeease!"

"Alright…geez. I just wanted to warn you." He chuckled.

_Keep moving forward my son. Keep moving forward._

_Towards the land of endless dreams_

_And bright sea shores. _

_May the obstacles in your path, not trample your spirit._

_May the darkness never hinder your way._

_May the earth and the sky always love you_

_For this and more do I pray. _

_I pray that you smile_

_Everyday, my son. _

_And that you will never feel unloved. _

_But there will be days, when my prayers go unanswered,_

_And you find yourself lonely and sad. _

_Just think of me, your father, who loves you _("Very much," Cornelius whispered.)

_And remember the words that I say_

_Keep moving forward, my son. Keep moving forward._

The soft sounds of snoring broke the silence. Cornelius fixed the blanket over the boy's body and gave him a slight kiss on the forehead.

"I love you Wilbur."

He watched him sleep for a few moments. Light streamed through the window and illuminated the figure before him.

"May your nights never be dark my son. May you be forever blessed by the light of the moon." And softly closed the door.

* * *

Note: These are two of my favorite poems. The first one was "There Will Come Soft Rains" by Sarah Teasdale and the second one was "Ode" by Arthur O'Shaughnessy.

Hopefully you enjoyed this little break. I know I did. I think. Just wanted to do a random episode really...well, see you again in two weeks time.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello everyone! So finals are over and I am free to do as I please for the next 4 weeks. Hopefully your holidays will be just as boss as I'm expecting mine to be.

Thank you so much for the people who have given reviews thus far. They are always appreciated, whether good or bad.

* * *

Chapter 5

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. "Jon Sommers shook Franny's hand. "And this must be Wilbur. Your dad used to talk about you quite a bit."

He nodded, having not spoken to anyone since the day of the fire that had taken his dad away from them.

Wilbur surveyed the man before him. Stocky. A little shorter than his father used to be. He had to admit that the man had a face that screamed dependability.

"It's good that you didn't bring anyone else." They sat in his office, which was only ten floors below Cornelius's. He opened a drawer and rummaged inside. "The less anyone knows about this, the better."

"What's so important that you couldn't tell us any of this during the funeral?" Franny had been a bit terse lately.

"You'll find out soon enough. Even I don't know its contents. Aha! Here it is!" Jon picked up the circular disk in his hand and laid it on the table. "One of your husband's most recent inventions."

"What is it?"

"I was instructed by your husband to give this to you if anything had happened to him."

A simple, thin silver disk with only what seemed to be a red sticker placed on top of it. Jon pressed the red dot and both Franny and Wilbur were surprised as the image of his father expanded from it.

Cornelius adjusted something off the screen, which distorted the image for a moment. Wilbur had missed him so much and here he was. Dressed in his usual blue vest, red tie, white lab coat, and the golden spike of hair...

"_Today is July 23, 2038. My name is Cornelius Robinson, president of Robinson Industries. If this disk should fall into your hands, please send it to my family_."

Cornelius cleared his throat.

"_Hi Franny. Hi Wilbur. If you're seeing this disk, it means that something has happened to me...because this...is my will._"

Franny began sobbing.

"_I really wasn't planning on making one so soon...but you know. Just in case_." The virtual Cornelius grinned, but it could not hide the pain clearly showing on his face. "_Franny... you were the best wife and companion any lonely, socially awkward man could ever hope for. And yes, my love. You were always right_."

She laughed suddenly as she tried to dab the tears from her eyes.

"_And Wilbur…my son. You are one of the best things that ever happened to me. You know we had our ups and downs, but I tried my hardest to be the best father for you_."

Wilbur didn't want to cry. He promised himself he wouldn't.

"_And I sometimes don't say it enough, but I love you. Very much. Even more than my own life_. _And the moment I first saw you, when you were born...I think that was when my life became complete_." His father smiled. He missed that smile.

The image of his father became blurry as his eyes watered.

Cornelius looked to his left as a knocking sound came through the video. A second voice rang out. "_Dad! We're going to be late for the game!"_

"_I'll be right there!"_

_"I have to wrap this up... I guess, that's all I have to say for now. I'll try to add some more at a later date. Just remember, to always keep moving forward_." He turned back and again adjusted something from behind the image, and the video ended.

"It was… kind of short, Mr. Sommers."

"Yes, that surprised me a bit. He gave this to me about two weeks ago, and he was quite adamant about only allowing you and Wilbur to know about this disk. Said it was important."

"There seemed to be nothing important in there at all…" Franny's voice trailed off as the disk began to glow. "What's happening?"

"I honestly don't know."

The disk turned on, and Cornelius was once again on the screen. His face was now more exhausted, and his body, slouched over a chair in front of the camera, revealed what little sleep the man had acquired. There were dark circles under his eyes, which deepened the intensity of his gaze when he looked straight through at them.

"_This is a coded message I've encrypted into the disk. It will only show if the disk is opened on exactly November 17, 2038. What I'm about to say must not leave the room_."

Cornelius dragged his hand across his blond hair and sighed.

"_I was warned that this would someday happen. I didn't really believe it then...but I believe it now. Someone's been following my every move for the past month or so_."

To that little bit of information, Wilbur's head shot up to stare at his dad's figure.

"_I didn't think so much about it…until my car couldn't brake in mid flight. Someone had tampered with the stop mechanism. It was all true." _Cornelius bit his lip, as if to suppress the anxiety clearly showing on his face. "_Someone is trying to kill me_."

He couldn't believe it. What was his father saying?

"_Little accidents here and there that could've been disasters…I haven't been home in about three weeks now. I don't want to leave my office... I can't let leave my office or they might get involved_."

"_I miss my family_," Cornelius said, "_I want to see them again…will I ever be able to see them again? __I just can't allow them to get hurt...I guess, that's what's making this whole thing bearable...just knowing that they're safe.__"_

Wilbur felt his anger rise up. Anger at his own stupidity. At what he had done. How could he have said that he had hated this man? He had never regretted saying those words more than he did then.

"_What he said is coming true. __I'm really going to die, aren't I_?" He stopped speaking as he looked to his right.

Something within Wilbur stirred at his father's words. _Who's "he"?_

"_It's one of my son's games today. It's quite a beautiful afternoon…I wish I was there._"

"_You should see what I see right now. The sun is out. It's such a clear day… I guess, my sun is about to set…but I hope my Wilbur and Franny will see thousands and thousands of splendid suns just like today's."_ Hand rising, Cornelius pressed a button on the remote and the video died once more.

A few seconds of silence passed between the three of them. As Jon opened his mouth to speak, the disk turned on for the final time.

"_The day that he told me is fast approaching. I might as well add this in here like I'm supposed to…Wilbur…I know you're there_."

"Dad?" Wilbur's voice cracked.

"_Hello son. Now listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you_." It may have been the some strange new part of his dad's invention or it had been coincidence; but the image of his father looked directly at him.

"_Look at your watch. You should have brought it with you_." Wilbur complied with this very odd request.

"_He told me that when you do so, it will be exactly 3:45 in the afternoon_."

Wilbur's heart stopped. "No…no way."

"_Yes way…now, do you understand?_" Cornelius smiled. "_I was debating for a while whether I should tell you this or not. How this would change anything I don't know, but it was a favor…from a dear old friend. What comes of this…has probably already been decided._"

"_Franny…Wilbur…please. Keep yourself safe_." The image faded, as did the glow of the disk. A line of numbers appeared in red for a few seconds before disappearing as well. To Wilbur, those numbers would have been easily forgotten, if he hadn't recognized it first.

* * *

Wilbur locked the seat belt across his lap. He pressed a button, and the time machine hummed to life. After checking the monitors for engine and turbine stability, he opened the garage doors with the remote underneath the steering wheel. Wilbur entered the string of numbers on the board to his left and flew the time machine straight up into the air.

His heartbeat quickened as the time bubble emerged, and the machine was engulfed in a swirl of purples and blues.

"Lewis…" he whispered as he looked at the photo on the dashboard, and just as suddenly, the bubble popped into nonexistence.


	6. Chapter 6

Author disclaimer: I do not own Meet the Robinsons, but you can never tell what will happen in the future hehe.

Thanks for hanging in there guys :) and Have a Merry Christmas, Happy holidays, and a wonderful New year.

* * *

Chapter 6:

"And that's how I got here." Wilbur finishes recounting. "In a nutshell…basically."

Of course, he had left out the parts where he cried. There were just things too sad and embarrassing to tell your best friend…who technically in the future would become your father…who dies.

"You're not mad at me, are you Lewis?" He probes.

"Mad…why should I be mad?" Lewis whispers. "I mean, I only just found out that I die a horrible death…"

"So…you are mad at me?"

"Well, Wilbur. As you would put it…_that_ is an excellent question." He stands and walks away.

"Lewis! Lewis! You gotta believe me! I want to change this as much as you do." Wilbur runs after him.

"Come on! Talk to me! I'm your friend, Lewis!"

Lewis stops, turns around, and puts his hand up to stop him. "Wilbur...just please... leave me alone."

And he slams the door shut.

"I'm so sorry."Wilbur punches the wall. He leans against the door, the fatigue finally catching up with him. "Please Lewis, don't be mad at me."

"Having a fight eh?" He didn't notice Bud coming down the hallway. Bud talks to Wilbur with the fake face drawn on the back of his head.

"I'm sorry if we were loud grandpa," he says, until he realizes what he had just said. "Oh whoops."

"Oh hehehe! I'm not that old yet!" Bud turns around and gives the boy his hand. "Come on. Let's just leave Cornelius to stew. He'll come out when he's ready."

Wilbur looks back at the door. This really wasn't how he had imagined things would go.

"So what d'ya want for dinner? My wife cooks a mean spaghetti and meatballs!"

"That would be fine, sir. I'm actually not that hungry right now."

"Ah, don't let it get you down kiddo. It's a very long ways to the kitchen. If you want, you can tell me what this is all about, and hopefully ole Bud here can help!"

"I don't think you can."

"Well then, just give me the gist of it, and let me decide if I can handle it or not," he states as he strokes his chin.

"I…well…he asked me a question…and I don't think he liked the answer."

"Well, then why so gloomy about that? If you told him the truth, then it's up to him whether he takes it badly or not."

"I know…I just…I didn't want to ruin our friendship…"

"Oh, poppycock! Don't underestimate our Cornelius! He has a good set of gray matter between those shoulders of his." Bud opens the door to the kitchen. "You'll see. Just give him time. And besides...I can see that he values your friendship more than anything else."

"I guess you're right…" Wilbur thinks about it for a few more seconds. "Yeah! You're absolutely right! Thanks grandpa!"

"Oh heeheehee! Grandpa! Well now, that does have a nice ring to it." He turns to call to his wife. "Lucille! I think Wilbur just got hungry for some of that spaghetti o' yours?"

* * *

Lewis could not sleep that night. No matter which way he turned, there were no comfortable positions. That and the fact that all he could think about was his impending doom in thirty years time.

"I definitely thought I was going to grow old with Franny, at least," he says calmly. "…I'm actually taking this pretty well."

He takes a deep breath, until his lungs are full and it starts to hurt, then exhales, "Oh, who am I kidding? I'm not taking this well at all!"

Lewis gets up and punches his pillows. "Stupid Wilbur! Why'd he have to come back and tell me? Grrr!"

When letting out all the aggression he felt stops being satisfying, he throws his pillows away and goes back to laying down and staring at the ceiling.

"Okay! Think Robinson think! What do I know? I'm going to die. In thirty years, I will send Wilbur back to warn me that I'm going to die. Um…I guess that's it really…No…that means Cornelius is expecting something from me. But if Cornelius was warned too, why did we still die?" The question hangs in the air. There is something that he hasn't thought of yet. Why would Cornelius, the greatest scientific mind of his age, not just invent something to save himself?

"There's something there. I can feel it. It's on the tip of my tongue. Gah! It's not coming out!" He rolls around on the bed for a while, clutching his head, willing for some spark of innovation to come to him. He stops, exhausted, as nothing enters his brain.

Well, nothing except the thought of Wilbur.

Beside all the panic Cornelius currently feels is the growing guilt whenever he thinks about the older boy.

_He was only trying to help you._

"I know! I know!" He taps his hand against his head in reprimand. "I shouldn't have treated him like that."

_Then apologize!_

"Why should I?" And Lewis realizes he is actually being stubborn to the voice in his head.

"At least…Wilbur took my death really well."

_I don't think so_.

"I know! I know I'm right! Gah! I hate being right…better go and apologize then."

* * *

The dim lights of the laboratory were still on.

"Guess he's still awake." Lewis climbs the stairs and finds the boy already on the make shift bed, sleeping on his side. "Geez, wasting electricity in this day and age...sigh...at least he cleaned up that mess earlier."

The blankets lay on the floor. "No wonder he's shivering."

He picks them up and notices Wilbur clutching the photo to his chest. Tears roll down his face as he cries in his sleep.

Lewis drapes the blanket over him.

"Dad?" Wilbur opens his eyes, and still groggy, he sees the outline of golden hair against the light.

"Go back to sleep. You were just having a bad dream."

"Oh, it's you Lewis." It hurt the inventor to hear the disappointment in that voice.

"Just get some rest. We'll talk in the morning."

"Don't leave okay? I don't want to be alone."

"I won't. I'll be right here looking after you."

"That's good…" He digs deeper into the blankets, a smile on his face.

Lewis switches the lights off and uses the lamp on his desk. He opens his notebook and begins to think.

_So let me stop focusing about myself for a moment…there was a reason I sent Wilbur back. I mean, even if I were to die, I would never send my son back just to save myself…right? Did Cornelius succumb to using the time machine to alter the past? I don't know. I won't know until that time comes. So don't worry about it now!_

_What do I know? About anything. Everything. Take into account time traveling. This is physics and science and reality. There are rules. No! Laws that must be followed. The first law of time travel must be…that I cannot be negated by anything in the future before I build the time machines. If I were to disappear, time travel would not be possible thus negating my own death. I mean this is just conjecture so I could be wrong…_

_The second law…would be that the reason for the use of the time machine cannot be negated…is that it? I think I got it…if I never die, Wilbur does not go back into the past to try and save me, negating the fact that he warns me of an impending murder. And I die anyway...Focus on the problem now! Don't think about that until later.  
_

_The third law…time travel seems to be the only way to change the past…but is it really? Too many paradoxes are created. What if…I think of the whole of human history as one book. With a beginning and an end. Wait…time travel. Let me go back to the first law. When Wilbur took me to the future, I disappeared from my timeline. I jumped thirty years in the book…but why…why didn't the future disappear then?_

The scratching of his pen stops. He dreads writing down what he thinks next.

_The future didn't disappear…because Wilbur had brought me back to the exact time I had left. But the universe should be able to tell the difference right? If I were taken out of my timeline, the future should be different from my point of view…It would be as if I hadn't been there…but then the time machines would disappear since I disappear from my timeline. If I went back, then the future will have changed to how it would normally have been. My point of view should differ depending on where I am in time.  
_

_Are there more of me then? Two possibilities arise. Either, there are multiple dimensions for each branching timeline, sustained by its own Cornelius and we travel between these dimensions…or if I go back to the book analogy…there is a Cornelius in every page sustaining it..._

He lets the thought sink in.

_Maybe…maybe the story has already been finished. And time travel, all of this…are just events in that story. What if…we are all just characters in the plot? Maybe there is no way to change it…this was meant to happen…_

He closes his notes. "No…I can't think like that…I have to find a way."

"Cuckle-doo-doo-doo!" A rooster cries out.

_Wait…there aren't any roosters around here!_

"Took you long enough!" Wilbur says, clearly annoyed. "You've been in a daze since I woke up."

To Lewis' surprise, the sun was already halfway to its peak. "What time is it?"

"Around ten. You skipped breakfast, and I've actually been talking to you for the past two hours."

"Talking?"

"Yea! Though, you didn't really say anything back. I thought you were just ignoring me or something." Wilbur crosses his arms. "I was apologizing for a whole hour until I realized you were in one of your trances."

"Apologize? For what?"

"You know...for the..." Lewis smiles at him, and Wilbur smiles back, taking the hint.

"So! Now that one problem has been solved, have you figured out how we're going solve problem number 2, executing operation Save the Nerd?"

"Hmm…" Lewis leers at him with a cold expression. "Callously calling your father a nerd to his face. If I survive all this, I will not forgive you so easily."

That look. His father's look that always made him want to run. Wilbur tries to swallow but his mouth seems to have dried up. He did not like that conspiring look on his face.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry…but _have_ you thought of a way out of this?"

"That is an excellent question!"

"Stop stealing my line! It's trademarked! This is infringement!" Wilbur waves his arms in the air to emphasize his aggravation.

"I'm starving." Lewis turns, not even seeming to listen to what the other boy was saying.

"You hear me Cornelius Robinson?" He yells at the blond. "Come back here!"

* * *

"Okay so we've gotta come up with a plan," Wilbur says as he opens the door.

They arrive in the deserted kitchen. The table already cleaned before Lucille and Bud left for work.

"First, we eat." Lewis opens the cupboard and grabs the box of cereal inside.

"Don't you have any sense of urgency here?"

"Wilbur, I think thirty years is enough time to worry about it. But right now…breakfast. I'm starving." And as if to accentuate it, his stomach growls.

Wilbur concedes. He taps his foot nervously as he watches the other boy eat.

"Why don't you eat something too? The way you're looking at me right now, I get the feeling that you want to attack me."

"No, I'm good." He stares a bit more, concentrating at that bowl of cereal, and with his eyes, tries to will the other boy to eat it faster .

"Fine," Lewis sighs. "Suit yourself then…but I'm going to take my time and enjoy my food."

Wilbur attempts to control his impatience…by groaning every six seconds. In the meantime, Lewis enjoys the spectacle, aggravating the other boy by chewing as slowly as humanly possible.

To Wilbur, centuries go by before the last flake is swallowed. He grabs the bowl from Lewis' hand and washes it himself. "Now! Can we go and talk strategy here?"

"Okay, let's go to the time machine then." Lewis decides gravely. "It's time to go back."

"Finally!"

Wilbur asks questions as he leads him to the empty field behind the house. Lewis just looks forward and grunts an assent every once in a while.

"Here we are!" The time machine appears in tiny blocks of color as the camouflage wears off. Wilbur gets on the ship. Looking at Lewis, the boy does not seem to have the intention of coming with him at all. He slowly understands and asks hesitantly, "Why aren't you getting on?"

"'Cause…you're the only one that's going back."

"What? But we haven't done anything?"

"From now on, it's going to depend on me. There is no 'we' here." He looks at his son, unwavering.

"But…"

Lewis shakes his head. "Whatever happens will happen Wilbur. It's your job to see this through."

"I…I don't want you to die." Wilbur's eyes begin to burn inside his skull.

"…Wilbur," Lewis smiles as he calls his name. "There are just some things that are meant to be. Even if you saved me, I _will_ have to eventually die someday."

Wilbur did not want to hear him, as he says, "No one can run from death."

"Dad…" His voice was breaking. "I'm worried. What if your plan doesn't work? What if…"

"Don't worry about me Wilbur…" Wilbur could see the determination now set on his face. "I will do my best to get through this. I promise, you won't have to grow up without me."

The word promise sends a chill down Wilbur's spine. The man had broken enough of them already. "Please, let me help you. I'm sure we can figure something out!"

"Wilbur, I'm your father, remember? I'm asking you nicely here. Do as I say, and go back...please."

"No! I'm not going to leave until you explain yourself to me!"

Lewis closes his eyes,thinking deeply, then says, "Machine over ride. My name is Cornelius Robinson."

The time machine closes its hatch, and Wilbur tries desperately to open it again to no avail. "Lewis? Lewis! What have you done?"

"Neat huh? I decided to install an over ride at this precise moment, and it comes true. I _am_ starting to figure out the laws of space and time."

"Lewis! Open the door now!"

"Sorry Wilbur. But you have to go back."

Wilbur bangs against the window, crying at how helpless he feels at that moment. "Please don't do this! I want to help you! I came all this way..."

"Machine…return to Robinson house…time coordinate 11182038." The time machine lifts off the ground and stows away its landing mechanism.

"Lewis! Promise me! You must promise to tell me in the future! 3:45 in the afternoon! Remember that!"

"As long as you promise that even if I die, you will continue to live your life."

"I promise!"

"Wilbur…I know it's hard for you right now. But one day, things _will_ get better." He could barely hear the blond against the roar of the engine. "Remember. Don't look back. Keep moving forward."

At those words, the machine jets into the sky, and the time bubble emerges. As Lewis looks on, it pops, the machine returning to the future. Only silence remains. Wilbur's frantic pleas keep echoing in his head, however. He knows he should not have made that promise, but there was no point in regretting that decision now.

"See ya later, pal."

* * *

Author's note: I never knew how hard it was to create a paradox in space and time haha. Props and massive respect to those who can.

This story is actually starting to get me down, and contrary to what I write, I'm usually always happy (Not a negative Norton hmm!). But you know to change direction, you gotta take it slowly by degrees. So hang in there. If the angle of entry is correct, there might be a rainbow after all this downpour.


	7. Chapter 7

At this point in time, I just really want to get this story over with. Once you read something over and over again just to edit the fine details, it poisons you. Sigh.

* * *

Chapter 7:

The roof closes as he lands the time machine in the garage. The clock by the wall shows that he has only been gone for two hours. It was quiet except for his heartbeat resounding in his ears.

Wilbur turns the engine off. The hatch opens, and he jumps out. Looking around, he doesn't see anyone tinkering with the machines. Not Carl. Not Cousin Lazlo. Not his father....

He jumps into the travel tube that leads into the main hallway.

"Mom! I'm home," Wilbur calls out as his feet land squarely on the ground. No response. "Mom?"

"Hey honey! Look at this…" A deep voice rings out. Wilbur's heart instantly races.

"Dad? Dad!" He runs toward that voice. It was coming straight from the living room.

"Dad!" He turns the corner and sees his mother, alone under a blanket, in front of the television.

"Wilbur? You're back."

He looks around, hoping and wishing that everything was back to the way things were. That his father was just hiding somewhere, ready to spring out and surprise him...like he used to.

"Franny! Look at this!"

The television catches his attention. That was the source of it all. "You don't wanna miss this! Wilbur's taking his first steps!"

His mother's voice comes in from outside the shot. "Oh my God! Are you taping this? Come on Wilbur! Come to mama!"

An infant Wilbur smiles, rushing towards her. He babbles and then as he reaches her, laughs in her arms.

Franny taps the seat beside her and Wilbur sits down, entranced by the video.

"You know…your father basically worshipped the ground you walked on when you were little." She sniffs, takes a tissue from her lap, and blows her nose. Her eyes were swollen and red. "How was he?"

"Who?"

"Lewis, of course…I figured that's what you were up to when you took the time machine."

"He's fine." _He's a liar…_

"Did you…speak to him?" She doesn't look at him directly, but he could tell all her attention was on him.

"Yeah…we had a long talk." _He promised me. He promised he would get through this._

"Anything in particular?"

"Not really…I guess he was too busy inventing something…he wasn't really listening." _Nothing's changed. The future is still the same. _

"I was hoping…at least…" But she doesn't finish her sentence. Wilbur already knows what she was going to say…mainly because it was the same thing he had wanted too.

"I'm sorry mom…I failed."

"It's not your fault." She wraps her arms around him.

The video keeps going as they cry, just a little bit.

"Oh, Papa feels so left out! Wilbur, come this way now. Come here."

A younger Franny places the infant back on the ground, and the screen moves as Cornelius hands her the camera. Little Wilbur wobbles towards him, gains speed, and then falls. The look on his face starts out bewildered, and as if in slow motion, his mouth opens into an ear-piercing wail.

"Aw, don't cry Wilbur." Cornelius picks him up and rocks him. He smiles to Franny behind the screen, but it makes him seem as if he is looking straight at them through the television. "Shh…shh…don't cry. It's going to be okay…don't cry. Daddy is so proud of you…"

* * *

To Wilbur, the last few days go by in a blur. He finds himself waking up, the sun's rays barely showing over the horizon. Monday. The dreaded day he has to go back to school.

There is a little frost on the glass. "It's going to be cold today." He looks in the mirror, repositions his spike, and stares into his own eyes.

"Wilbur…keep moving forward." He smiles at his own reflection. "You promised that idiot. You have to man up now."

His smile slides for a moment as he thinks back. The lump in his chest seems to get heavier and heavier until he feels like dropping to the floor. Wilbur catches himself, looks at the mirror, and places the smile on his face once again. "Let's do our best!"

Downstairs, everyone was already gathered at the table. The conversation was solemn as it had been for the past week.

"Good morning everyone!" They all look at him, startled at first by the sudden noise, then confused by the strange disposition of the speaker. "So, what's for breakfast Carl?"

"We're having bacon and eggs." The robot opens his chest, grabs a plate from inside, and places the dish in front of the boy. "Is something the matter, little buddy? You're acting kind of…weird."

"Weird? Moi? In what way?" he asks as he begins to stuff strips of meat in his mouth. Halfway through, his words become slightly garbled.

"You seem…very cheery…"

"Carl, buddy, it's me!" He flourishes his hands around his face. "Since when am I not cheery?"

"Well…the whole of last week basically…"

"Oh that. Just a minor set back, Carl." The robot looks at Wilbur's mother, both worried.

"And besides…" The mask was slipping, and everyone could see it. "I know…dad wouldn't want us to be sad…even if he is gone. He's just that kind of guy, always thinking about us first."

There was silence. He berates himself for breaking the mood. That was the one thing he didn't want to do today.

Then it comes…the unmistakable sound of the meatball cannon, and the sound of meat sticking to Franny's face.

"Gaston…" She looks at her brother with tears in her eyes.

"I challenge you to a duel!" His eyes also gleam under the shadow of his strange, cylindrical helmet.

Franny wipes her tears away, and the look on her face turns deadly. "You'll regret challenging me…_brother_."

As his mother gets on top of the table, this feeling begins to grow softly in Wilbur's gut, and it rises until he bursts out laughing. It was an honest laugh. A laugh filled with joy…and it infects the rest of his family. They laugh with tears in their eyes because this situation was both too sad and too beautiful.

He thinks, "Dad would have wanted us to be happy…just like this."

Wilbur catches his mother's gaze. They smile at each other; the first in what felt to him was a very long time.

* * *

The bell rings, signaling the end of a long school day. Students rush out of into the hallway. To Wilbur, there was noise everywhere, from the clang of lockers being opened and closed to the stampede of feet as boys and girls rush to the nearest exit.

Wilbur's day had been awkward to say the least…

"Hey Wilbur." Kathy approaches him as he leaves through the front doors. "I heard about your dad. I'm sorry."

"Er…thank you…" He could say nothing else. This was Kathy. Katherine Eva Spiller, the most sought after girl in school. She knew his name! Well...yeah, she had to be stupid not to know his name, but it was the thought that counted. He blushes slightly, and strangely enough, can't seem to look straight into her seemingly gorgeous green eyes.

"Yeah!" Kathy's friend comes out from behind her. "We heard the news. And we totally don't think your dad was insane!"

"Um…thank you?"

"Take care…" Kathy states, just before dragging her friend away in embarrassment.

And the awkwardness rises once more.

It was like that all day. He could feel their eyes on him. And by "them", he meant everyone who saw or knew of him. That was quite a very big list. He had tried to ignore it, tried not to feel their pity, but with all his strength drained by just trying to be as cheerful as possible, this new development did not help his mood any.

Wilbur usually had Carl come and pick him up from school. Today was an exception.

"Hey Wilbur. Wanna hang out at my place?" His friend, Jake, had seen the look on his face.

Jake. One of the first people he'd met who hadn't been intimidated or even remotely impressed by his last name. The level headed one that kept him out of trouble in school. Heck, he was basically a human Carl. His first friend, after Carl of course. He could always depend on the shorter, brown haired boy to know what to do.

"No thanks…I just want to be alone right now..." He hears his voice and immediately straightens himself up. "No worries Jake. I'm not down or anything! I'm just tired. Just tired! But if you want, you can sleep over again this weekend."

"I've gotta ask my parents first…are you sure you're going to be okay?" He looks around. "It's weird that Carl's not with you today."

"Told him that I could just take a taxi home. I wanted to walk for a little while…"

"I understand bro." He shakes Wilbur's hand and adds a concerned squeeze in his grip. "Be careful okay?"

"Who do you think you're talking to? Wilbur Robinson is the master of being careful."

"Dude…if I believed that, I wouldn't have said anything." Jake chuckles nervously. A car honks by the parking lot. "Oh, there's my dad. Gotta run!"

A strong spike of jealousy rises in him, which he extinguishes as quickly as possible.

"No!" He shakes his head. "I can't think like that…I should get some ice cream. That'll make me feel better at least."

But his chosen path, inevitably, would have taken him across the city and right through to Robinson Industries.

He looks up and nostalgia sears through. The shining monolith now has a hole blasted off its side where his father's office once was. The deco paint marred by the black soot that ends halfway down the building.

Across from all the yellow tape keeping him out, police are busy investigating, and as Wilbur scans their faces, he meets the eyes of the detective from last week.

"…I should be going now," he whispers and turns to leave.

"Hey wait! Wilbur right?" The detective runs up to him. "I'm sorry if we got off on the wrong foot there."

"No…it's okay."

"I just wanted to apologize…I can be insensitive sometimes."

"I'm not a little flower that you have to be careful with," Wilbur says a little to harshly.

"No. I guess you're not." He smiles. "I'm Dan Maza. We weren't properly introduced last time."

Wilbur shakes his hand but doesn't look up. "So detective…have you found anything yet?"

"Nothing that I can disclose right now."

This was his father he was talking about! "Still think my dad was…how did you put it…mentally unstable'?"

"Sorry kid. Just doing my job."

"Well…you should get back to that then, instead of talking to some kid like me." Wilbur leaves feeling more agitated than he had expected to be.

As he turns away, he catches a glimpse of two people across the street. One is a tall man, made even taller by the top hat on their head. He is also wearing a large, brown trench coat. The second, shorter by comparison, is wearing a leather jacket with his hood up.

All-in-all, Wilbur could only assume they were men because their faces were hidden underneath the deep shadows of said hat and hood. There was, however, the prickly sensation, an intuition he would call it, that they were looking straight at him.

"Nah! Who am I kidding?" He laughs to himself, smirking just a bit. "I can't blame them for staring. I do have that je ne sais qoui..."

When he looks back, hoping to flash them his award winning smile, the two men had already disappeared.

"…Okay. I really do need that ice cream now."


	8. Chapter 8

Because all the seriousness was going directly to my brain, I had to write another interlude. Just a random day in the life of Wilbur Robinson.

Just to warn you, I gotta give this a rating of M...for hot Mess! (No pun intended)

Think Meet the Robinsons with a dabble of Alice in Wonderland. More like a pinch really.

* * *

Chapter 8: Interlude #2

Sir Wilbur, son of Robin, decked in a fine suit of armor, was riding his ferocious steed. The air was crisp, the leaves starting to change into their fall colors, a fine day, he would say, to do what knights of the realm always seem to do: Rescue a damsel in distress.

But this fine day, traveling for many hours and many miles, there didn't seem to be any damsels distressing. Not even the smallest dragon that needed slaying.

"What's a knight to do, when there's nothing to do?" he asked.

"Well, little buddy." The horse looked back, its face that of a golden robot, which somehow or other doesn't seem to bother the knight. "We could always ask a village that needs saving."

"Where would we find such a village, Carl?"

'Lo and behold, there was a village in the distance under a dark plume of smoke. As the knight rode closer, he saw that a few huts were on fire. Farm animals were running in a panic. A small child cries in the corner.

"What seems to be the problem?" He asked an old man, screaming as his hair went up in flames. And this man seemed to look familiar…as if a bowler hat would make his whole outfit complete.

He stopped screaming, looks at the knight, and says in a calm manner, "Why the wizard of course!"

"An evil wizard?" The knight became intrigued. Finally, had a mission arisen worth risking one's life for?

"Yes, the evil wizard!" He stroked his mustache in annoyance.

"Did he attack your village with evil magicks? Did he set your house ablaze?"

The villager looked at him, perplexed. "No…he's been inventing nonstop for the last five days. No one has had any sleep with all the noise!"

"Then…why the fire?"

"To signal any nearby knights to come to our aid, duh!"

"Well…that makes sense." Oddly enough, to Wilbur, it did.

"Now will you help us, o brave knight?" The mustachioed villager pleaded as he went on his knees.

"I will do all I can. Sir Wilbur, son of Robin, never fails!" He looked around. "Um…where is this wizard now?"

"Where any wizard would be. His tower of course." The villager pointed up at the hill and lightning flashed in the sky above it. "You're not a very bright knight, are you?"

"I'll go talk to this wizard then."

"See that you do." Then brushing off the dust on his pants, he coughed and began to flail around, finally noticing once more that his hair was on fire.

* * *

The tower truly looked menacing when up close. And the lightning that struck whenever he looked up at it didn't help any.

He could see the gargoyle knocker on the door. And by gargoyle, he meant T-rex. He swung the lower jaw against the door, and a resounding roar came from inside. His legs shook.

The door slowly opened and out came a very young man in a white lab coat. The golden spike of hair atop the man's head, that seemed to defy gravity, impressed Wilbur.

"Hey there! Are you here to help me finish my newest invention?" He smiled.

"Uh…I'm actually here on behalf of the villagers…you see they---"

"Ah! Say no more!" And he walked back into the tower. "Come! Follow me! There's work to do!"

"But I need to talk to you about the noise complaint!" He hurried after him.

"It's almost complete!" As the two went through the halls, Wilbur could not help but be amazed by the plethora of gizmos and gadgets and watchamarangs that were on display. "Keep moving forward now Sir knight."

The wizard turned around, still walking albeit backwards as he went up the stairs. "I'm sorry I'm in such a rush. What was your name? I didn't catch it the first time."

"I'm Wilbur, son of Robin."

"Ah! The famous sir Wilbur!"

"You've heard of me?" He smiled proudly.

"No. Not really." And Wilbur deflated. "On the other hand, you may have heard of me. I have many names. Two in fact. People sometimes call me Lewis the Loony. And sometimes they call me Crazy Cornelius."

"Well, nice to meet you…uh, Mister Cornelius."

"It's Doctor actually. But you can just call me Crazy." They shook hands.

They went down a spiral staircase, up a ladder, over a chasm of deadly spikes, into the highest room of the tower.

"Yes! Almost done now. All I had to do was wait for you, Sir Wilbur." He pushed the door open and inside was the most beautiful object Wilbur had ever seen. So red and so shiny!

"I call it the Time Carriage!"

"What's it do?" Wilbur ran his hands against the smooth surface. Shiny!

"Why isn't that why you're here? To help save the Princess?" The wizard asked.

"Princess?"

"Yes! Princess Kathy! She was kidnapped by the evil witch!"

"Then what are we waiting for! We have to save her!" He looked around again. "Um…where is she, exactly?"

"Where else but in the witch's evil tower, duh!" Crazy Cornelius hopped into the carriage. "You're not a very bright knight are you?"

* * *

The Time Carriage flew in the air, towards the east. Wilbur could see where the witch's desolate land began. A dark place, where the trees were bare and scorched, and the land was dry and barren. Vultures circled the sky looking for their next meal.

And in the middle of that desert, was a single tower that rivaled that of Crazy Cornelius'. A fair maiden looked out from the lone window atop that tower.

"I see her! It's Princess Kathy," the wizard said.

"She's…she's beautiful!"

"Yes, the fairest princess of all the land." The wizard agreed.

He sidled the Time Carriage next to the tower window and opened the hatch.

"Princess. We've come to rescue you," Wilbur stated.

Her golden locks fell in waves against her shoulder. Her perfume wafted into his nostrils and her green eyes mesmerized the knight.

"Oh thank you sir knight! I don't know how long I could have survived in this tower. Locked with that wicked witch!" She jumped into the carriage into the knight's awaiting arms.

"Did she hurt you?"

"No, but her nagging was beginning to get on my nerves!"

"Kathy! What are you doing? Get back here!" It was a strange voice, slightly falsetto. And it was coming from the piece of wood shaking inside the tower, a piece of wood that was strangely dressed as a woman with orange curls.

"Run! It's the witch!" Princess Kathy exclaimed.

Cornelius closed the hatch and drove the Time Carriage onward. Wilbur looked back to see the puppet waving frantically outside the window.

"I've seen better rescues in my day!" She exclaimed in her high voice.

* * *

The Time Carriage landed on lush soil once more. Wilbur disembarked and presented his hand to the lady. As she got off, she tripped on the hem of her dress and fell. Wilbur caught her just in time, his arms wrapped gently across her waist.

"Oh…thank you, sir knight," she said softly.

"Um…it was nothing…call…ahem…call me Wilbur." His voice cracked as he spoke.

"And you can call me, Kathy." Her voice was melodious to his ears. His arms felt like jelly as she placed her hand on his own.

"You know what Sir Wilbur?"

"Ye…yes?"

"I think…I think I love you…" She placed her hands around his neck and closed her eyes, pursing her lips into a kiss.

He blushed and felt the butterflies dancing in his stomach growing stronger. He felt like he needed to go to the bathroom. Now!

* * *

Wilbur opened his eyes to find himself in darkness.

"A dream…just a dream…" His heart was racing in his chest. So close! So close to kissing her.

As he moved, he felt something…wet…inside his sheets.

"Oh, God. Please tell me I didn't just pee my pants." He turned on the lamp on the side table and pulled up his blanket. Wilbur grimaced. "Oh God! It's worse!"

He hoped that no one would see him sneaking into the laundry room with his blanket and covers rolled up in a ball in his arms.

Wilbur placed it all in the washing machine, dumped some laundry detergent, and ran the load. The machine roared to life. Wilbur had never noticed it before, but the machine at four in the morning sounded like a bulldozer running over a road full of light bulbs.

The kitchen light went on. "Who's there?"

"It's…it's me dad. I…I'm in here." Wilbur bit his fingernails.

"Son?" Cornelius leaned against the door. "Why in Galileo's name are you up this early?"

"I…I just felt like…you know." He looked away and rubbed the back of his head like he usually did in such situations. "Felt like…doing the laundry…"

"The laundry?"

"Yeah…" he whispered. Why couldn't his father just drop the subject? What he was doing was completely normal...wasn't it?

"At four in the morning?" He asked incredulously.

Wilbur nodded. He was blushing so hard in the darkness and biting his lip.

"Dirty clothes?"

"I…I couldn't go to sleep…the …the bed sheets were kinda dirty."

"…" Cornelius eyes popped open. "Oh…oh!"

Wilbur looked at the ground, his fingers wringing in front of him. He wanted to die. Just crawl into a small hole in the wall and just die.

"Um… oh." Cornelius's face changed sporadically as he tried to think of something to say, something to salvage this whole situation. "Uh...carry on then…I wouldn't want to sleep on dirty bed sheets as well!"

Wilbur looked up at his father, who smiled at him. Maybe he hadn't figured it out.

"Okay. I'm just going to get something to eat before I go to sleep. Been busy all night with a new invention." Cornelius yawned as he looked inside the fridge.

He spied a sandwich, eyeing it closely, looking for any signs of mold. Sniffed it once or twice then took a tentative bite.

"Still good." The inventor closed the refrigerator door.

"Goodnight Wilbur," he called back as he went up the stairs, taking another bite.

"Night."

Cornelius' footsteps stopped. "And Wilbur?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"Sweet dreams…ahem." Footsteps quickened as he ran up the stairs, trying to hold his laughter inside.

Wilbur couldn't stop himself from blushing even deeper than he already did.

* * *

Note: Happy holidays guys. That'll be it for a while considering the three chapters this week. Now for some rest and relaxation on my part.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Wilbur sees them again the next day, outside his school for a brief instant, as he looks out of the window during a relatively boring science class. And the day after that as well as he's crossing the street with Carl. And again, as he leaves through the front doors on Friday afternoon. The distinctive top hat could be seen bobbing over the sea of students milling outside the school.

"What's the matter?" Jake asks, standing by him in the parking lot.

"Nothing. It's nothing," he says, loud enough to be heard in the din.

"So I asked my mom, and she said I could sleep over this weekend."

Wilbur grimaces, having forgotten all about it.

"I don't think it's a good time right now dude."

"Wait. Why not?"

"Do you see those two people over there? Don't look at them!" He turns Jake to the side. "Geez! Way to be subtle…Do you see them?"

"You mean the guys with the weird fashion sense?" he asks, nonchalant.

"Yeah. They've been following me around the last couple of days."

"Are you sure you're not just being paranoid again?"

"Positive!"

"Have you told the police about this?"

"And have them run away at the first sign? No Jake. If I can corner one of them, maybe they'll know something about my dad."

"Wilbur, bro." Jake begins to see where this is heading. "What if they're responsible for your father's death? Did you ever think of that? What happens if they're after you next?"

"Won't know until I ask them." Wilbur tries to reassure him with a smile.

"You really worry me sometimes."

"There's no need." Wilbur shakes his head. "I'll be totally and completely fine."

Wilbur goes on to one knee and reties his laces. "But, just in case."

"Hey isn't that Carl coming?" Jake says as he looks over to the parking lot. He turns around and sees Wilbur already running in the opposite direction.

"Gotta go Jake! Wish me luck."

"Wilbur, don't make me say 'I told ya so,'" Jake yells at him.

"What's that? I can't hear you! Too much interference!" He makes loud, static noises to make his point.

And the boy disappears around the corner.

* * *

Yes, as expected, they were trailing him. It wasn't very hard to miss them, considering that even the people around the two extravagantly outfitted men were looking at them strangely.

"Okay. Now to put this plan into action."

Wilbur turns around to look at the two of them, which has the expected outcome of stopping them in their tracks.

"Hey! Why don't you two catch me if you can?" Wilbur laughs and runs through the crowd. He doesn't look back, but from the hey's and watch it's coming from behind him, he knows that they are chasing after him.

Escaping into an alley, he hides behind a recycling bin and waits. Wilbur hears them coming, hears them pass him, and then hears their whispered voices as they see the empty dead end they were tricked into.

He takes a deep breath, a small voice in his head (oddly enough sounding like Carl) telling him that this was a mistake…which he promptly silences like he always does.

"Hey! What do you guys know about my dad?" Wilbur comes out of his hiding place and cuts off their escape. But... the two men in front of him now don't seem to be the two that he wanted. He looks again. No, not at all. Even without the hood and hat, their heights were too different.

"What've we got here?" the one on the left spoke, smiling between crooked teeth. He looks to the man next to him. "Just our luck!"

"Ain't that the Robinson kid, Charlie?" the man answers, his voice heavy with what Wilbur perceives as an English accent. "The one we've been tailin' all this time?"

"Right you are Spooks!" He pulls an object from his belt and points it at Wilbur. "Easier than I thought, really. He came to us."

"Hey fellas! We got 'im!" Spooks yells out.

Two more people appear behind Wilbur and block his only way out. Jake's voice instantly rings through his head, and it says, "I told you so!"

"I should really start listening to him more," Wilbur thinks.

He surveys the four of them and something inside him panics. He wants to run. But, strangely enough a little piece of him is able to keep calm, and that part wonders if all four of them got fashion advice from top hat man. Even to Wilbur's untrained eye, their color palette was truly atrocious. Wilbur shakes his head to dispel those thoughts. He needed to focus.

Wilbur inches his way for the exit. If he could only get past the two, and he had a slim chance of that, he could disappear into a crowd.

"Kid, come with us quiet like, and you won't get hurt!" Charlie offers.

"My parents told me never to speak with strangers," Wilbur smirks, but his bravado is thin. He knows that his voice and hands were now shaking.

Charlie points the the object in his hand at the floor. A red beam emerges and chars the ground right next to Wilbur's foot. It takes all of Wilbur's strength not to yell out loud…or to keep his legs from collapsing under him.

"Yeah…this was a mistake," Wilbur thinks to himself.

He needed to do something. Anything. What else could he do really but distract them with conversation. Maybe someone would hear.

"What do you want with me?"

"Just to catch ya'. Snake's orders, see," Spooks answers, and Charlie smacks him across the back of his head.

"Don't go telling the kid nothing now!"

Was this a kidnapping? To Wilbur, this didn't seem to be just a simple robbery. And who is this Snake?

"Look guys, I don't have any money with me right now---"

The man named Charlie comes closer and grabs him by the arm. "We don't want your money kid. Just take it easy and cooperate."

Suddenly, a bright light erupts. It blinds Wilbur, but he hears the sound of thunder fill the alley. He had felt heat exploding right next to him, and he cringes away on instinct. His vision clears slowly, and when it does, he sees the man who was named Charlie, lying on the floor, groaning, with a hole in his shirt and a burn mark on his chest.

And there is someone in front of him now, standing with his back towards him. Wilbur could recognize that hooded leather jacket anywhere. The man's hand is strangely smoking like a newly fired pistol.

Just then, something grabs Wilbur's shoulder and jolts him to look up, frightened, at the man with the top hat.

"Come with me if you want to live," he whispers.

Wilbur doesn't think about it, too surprised by what had happened just moments before. He nods, absentminded, and runs, his feet on automatic, allowing the top hat guy to pull him away.

Spooks comes out of his daze, rubbing the pain in his eyes away and catches sight of Wilbur as they escape. "The Robinson kid's gettin' away!"

Wilbur doesn't see what happens next. All he hears is the faraway sounds of gunshots. Gunshots that are then drowned out by a roaring thunder that explodes once more.

They run and keep running. He didn't know if they were still after him. The man pulling on his arm leads him in twists and turns, through crowds and deserted alleyways like a maze, hoping to lose their pursuers. To Wilbur, everything seems like a blur. His mind is still numb from what has happened: Charlie had pointed a gun directly at him. That was a gun. He wanted to get as far away from that as possible even if it meant being kidnapped by the top hat man instead.

Exhausted, the top hat man gazes over his shoulder and seeing no one, begins to slow down to a halt.

"We're safe…for now," he whispers to himself.

They were now in the old industrial center of the city. Filled with some abandoned warehouses, it was the perfectly place to hide. The stranger takes rummages into one of his pockets and produces a key. He opens the door to one of the buildings and pulls Wilbur inside.

It was empty except for the single desk and chair in the middle of the room. Light came through the windows that lined high up on the walls.

Wilbur leans against the wall, out of breath. The top hat man moves to the center of the room, but Wilbur pulls back, his mind starting to race. Out of the pot, into the fire...maybe.

"Let go," Wilbur says..

The top hat man looks at him, surprised, as if he had forgotten all about the him.

"Let go of my arm…"

He does.

"Why have you been following me?" The question comes out in gasps. "What is going on?"

The top hat man keeps silent, drawing his face even deeper into the umbra of his cloak.

"What do you want with me? Who is this Snake? Do you work for him too?" The man stays silent.

"Why did you kill my dad? Answer me!"

The top hat man begins to shake, and in a yell that surprises Wilbur, the top hat man proceeds to push him against the wall, lifting him up into the air by the front of his coat.

"Why?" the top hat man asks. His voice is gruff. "Why did you do that?"

"Let go!" Wilbur tries to push him away, his legs flailing helplessly in the air.

"Why did you have to put yourself in danger." The top hat man's voice gets louder and louder.

"Put me down!" Wilbur punches wildly.

"So help me God, I'm going to ground you until the sun stops shining!" the man exclaims. At the same time, Wilbur's fist connects with his face, and it knocks the top hat from his head.

And Wilbur stops struggling altogether as the world seems to go into slow motion.

"It…it can't be," he says softly as the world seemed to slow down around him.

The same jaw, the same blue eyes, the same blond spike. All the same features he had known and loved, twisted into worry. A red blotch appears on the left cheek where Wilbur's fist had been momentarily.

Cornelius sees his hands clenched by his son's throat. He lowers the boy until his feet touch the ground and relaxes his fists. He looks at his son: the boy's lip quivering, hands clenching together, eyes watering.

"Dad..." Both joy and sadness fill him to the brink until he can't seem to hold it in any longer, and he cries. Wilbur wraps his arms around him and buries his face into his chest.

The warehouse's silence is broken by his loud sobs.

"I'm so sorry Wilbur." Cornelius slowly strokes the boy's hair.

"I don't care! I don't care! I'm just so glad you're alive!" Cornelius smiles as the rest of Wilbur's words are lost into incoherent babbling and hiccups.

"I missed you too…" He says as he pulls his son closer to him, embracing him as if to never let go.

* * *

Note: Thank you for everyone's reviews so far. As usual, they are always welcome.

Sorry this took so long. I've been reading the Cirque du freak series by Darren Shan and a couple of other books.

I'm planning two more chapters in this story and then I'm going to switch the it over with more of a character arc instead. I've never done one before but hey I have to start somewhere.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's disclaimer: UGHHHHHHH!

* * *

Chapter 10:

Hey little nuts and bolts

How do you do?

My name is Cornelius.

Fine. Thank you.

Just a little twist here

And a little twist there.

Double check Double check

Do each job with care.

Cornelius sang in his head as he worked. It was a small ditty he had made on the spot a few months back, and he had been proud of it. Even tried to teach the frogs how to sing the words. It was unexpected when they refused, called it immature, uninspired…lacking musicality. What did that even mean, he had asked. And the frogs just shook their heads as if he would never understand.

"Stupid frogs, what do they know about music?" He stopped to think, then just shook his head as well.

He looked down at his new invention. Tiny compared to the others, but this would revolutionize video technology. It would be the thinnest video camera in the world! Not only that, but it could render images into the third dimension! Oh, he was so excited, been excited since the theory of it all fell into place just mere weeks ago.

Cornelius placed the red lens cover on top and stared at it for a few more minutes.

"I think that's it," he pondered. "Just have to check it now."

Picking up a remote, he pressed a few buttons until the red sticker lit up to indicate it was on.

"Testing. Testing. One. Two. Three." He adjusted a few more buttons on the camera. "First test of the holographer. This is Cornelius Robinson."

"Okay, hopefully, the dimensional video matrices were able to stabilize the construct."

His image appeared from the red dot on the camera. "Testing…---esting, one, two,thr---,"

"Good, good. The first problem is solved at least. Though…" He bit his lip, disappointed. "There seems to be a lot of static, and the visual quality is still not on par with the high definition systems."

Just then, the watch on his wrist began to beep furiously, emitting a high-pitched noise that Cornelius had installed to break him out of his reveries.

"Five o' clock already? Geez, where does the time fly by?" He smiled as he looked at the pictures on his desk. Everyday, he looked at the photos of his family, thanking whatever or whoever was ruling the universe for all that he had.

"Can't wait to find out what's for dinner." He whistled then pressed the green button on his desk to call his receptionist. "Arlene, I'll be heading home now. Have a nice day."

"Yes, Mister Robinson, and a nice day to you as well," she replied.

"Will do!" And he proceeded to jump into the travel tube. His feet landed, a few seconds later, in the parking garage, where his hover car was waiting.

* * *

"Your father is kind of…late," Franny said as she looked at the clock. "He was supposed to be here hours ago."

"Don't worry about it, mom." Wilbur didn't look up from the game in his hand. "He's probably at the edge of another breakthrough or something."

"I hope you're right." She moved to the window and peered at the sky, hoping for any sign that her husband's car had flown safely home. It was only when the grandfather clock struck eight times that Franny saw the light coming her way.

"He's here," she said as she sighed a breath of relief.

Relief then annoyance flooded through her.

"Your dad should at least have called to tell us he was going to be late." She kept her eyes on the two beams of light, her hands at her hips, thinking of how she was going to berate him this time.

But the car did not fly over the house and into the garage as she had expected. It dropped to the ground on the front lawn.

"That's odd." She saw the car's top open, and she rushed out to see what was going on.

"Hey honey…I'm home."

"Cornelius? What's going on?" In the darkness, she couldn't see, not until she was close enough to touch him, that his arm was in a sling and his forehead was bandaged.

"What happened to you?" She looked over and recognized the driver. "Arlene? How are you?"

"Could be better Mrs. Robinson."

"Don't worry Franny." He comforted her with his good arm. "Just a small malfunction in the hover car. Nothing too serious."

"This definitely doesn't look like it's nothing."

"I'm just glad I'm not dead." He smiled, but he read through her eyes that she didn't believe him one bit.

"Thank you for bringing my bumbling husband home, Arlene."

"My pleasure. Just do me a favor and keep him home for a few days. I know he's going to be itching to come back to work as soon as possible."

"Will do!"

"What!" he exclaimed. "No. As I said, this is nothing. Just a scratch! It won't be a bother!"

"Come on, young man." Franny pulled tugged at his ear until he followed. "Off to bed with you."

"But…But! I can still work! I need to finish my invention!"

She didn't let go even as they entered the door and up the stairs.

He kept howling along the way, screaming about the indecency, the humility, the unfairness of it all!

"What are you? Five years old?" she asked without stopping to look back.

All in jest, of course. He had a smile on his lips as he felt her love for him, her worry as visible as the moonlight. Her fingers pulled his ear tightly but so tenderly. His hand wrapped around her offending wrist and felt the softness of her skin. Cornelius felt relief that he was able to see her again, to touch her, and hold her. His heart, which had raced as his car lost balance, as he maneuvered it through oncoming traffic, as it lost altitude, was beating furiously now against his chest. He couldn't forget that the last thought he had before he crashed and lost consciousness had been the mind-numbing realization that he would never see Franny and Wilbur again.

"Are you listening to me, Cornelius Robinson?" She stopped at the foot of the bed and pushed him over the covers. Her arms rested on her hips. It truly was a simple animalistic behavior to gain dominance by increasing size. "You're going to rest now, and we'll talk about what happened in the morning."

"Don't I get a say in this?" He pouted.

"No, you don't. Now, relax and go to sleep." Her voice softened as she placed the blankets over him and removed the glasses from his face. Franny ran her fingers across his hair, down into his neck, and against his cheek.

Cornelius acquiesced. "Okay Fran. I'll take it easy for a few days."

"Good." She rose up and turned off the light. As she walked through the door, she looked back at him. "I'll make your favorite for breakfast tomorrow okay?"

With the pain in his arm, it took Cornelius a while to fall asleep. That wasn't all of it. In the back of his head, there was something scratching, trying to claw its way to the surface. Something from long ago. The thought was nagging him.

"Have I forgotten something?"

* * *

A week had gone by since the accident, and Franny had been babying him. It was nice, Cornelius could admit, being pampered. She made sure that he got out of bed as little as possible. The problem was that his head raced with so many ideas, he was bursting at the seams with the desire to invent, to create, to do something with his hands. Inventors needed to invent. That was a simple fact of life.

So, he had ignored her protests and gone back to work, testing out all the theories he had been coming up with during his convalescence. It was marvelous! Maybe that accident had been a godsend because he was able to finish the holographer in record time.

Today, his breakfast was a dish of bacon and eggs. Fried so beautifully, they would have tempted even the most stout-hearted vegetarian. It lay untouched, however. All of his attention was on the letter in his hand.

_Electrical lines cut: Sabotage_

He read that line over and over again.

_Sabotage_

"Hey dad? Are you okay?"

Cornelius didn't look up to acknowledge him.

"Dad?"

"Not now Wilbur…"

Wilbur…how had he forgotten all those years ago? Was it that long ago the dark haired boy had come to warn him? It was true that his life had been one blessing after another: first his marriage with Franny, then Wilbur's birth, and really after that his life was busy just trying to keep Wilbur from one absurd mess after another. Even with that, he shouldn't have forgotten…maybe, he hadn't really wanted to believe it. Deep down, he had to deny it all or go insane with the fear of the future itself.

"Dad…we have to go or we'll be late."

"Huh?" Cornelius looked at the clock. "Yikes! We gotta get you to school now or mom's going to kill us!"

The energy was gone then. The way he smiled, his apparent joie de vivre, all of it had disappeared. Cornelius could remember that it had been like this once. He had been an empty shell, and now he was one, once again.

"Dad? Is something bothering you?"

"Hmm? Oh! It's nothing, just got another idea I want to try out at the lab." He smiled again. He didn't want to, but he could remember the way Wilbur had been: sullen, dark… He didn't want his son to be like that Wilbur of long ago, but it seemed that this was their fate all along.

"Come on then, old man!" Wilbur slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped out into the brightness of the sun. "I'll race you to the car!"

* * *

Smoke ran up into the sky. A dark cloud that disappeared to a place Cornelius did not know where. The mathematical equations ran in his head. The velocity of the smoke was increasing. Each billow of warm air accelerated in straight, laminar flow until the equilibrium broke and turbulence made the tendrils dance so tenderly in beautiful arabesques.

He knew his mind was blank with shock. He knew it but was helpless to escape it. No, strike that. This was his escape from harsh reality.

His fingers were numb. Cold.

"Norepinephrine coursing through my veins causing peripheral vasculature to clamp down in a normal fight or flight response." He thought, detached.

Cornelius's fingers wrapped itself, digging into the soft flesh he clutched to his chest, as if afraid to let go.

"I'm okay dad. Really." The voice broke through, muffled.

This was true fear clutching at his heart. And hatred. He felt them both as he gritted his teeth and embraced the boy harder. Wilbur hugged him back.

Cornelius traced the dark cloud, down towards the ground where a smoldering heap lay. Only moments before...this car too had malfunctioned and dropped from the sky.

No mistaking it.

Sabotage

But this time, his son was involved.

"Unforgivable." He thought…and he didn't know if that thought was for the one responsible for all of this or for his own irresponsibility.

* * *

Cornelius hadn't left his office in weeks now for fear that someone else would get involved. Trapped in that lifeless box, his hands had itched to invent, but nothing came to mind. The dread. The hopelessness. Those filled his every waking hour.

If he remembered correctly, today was the day he was going to die. Fear. Agony. He was drained. His arms hung, lifeless against his side. He had done his best to keep from giving up, but those words had shaken him to his foundation until he broke.

"I hate you!" Those words had come through the phone straight from his own son's mouth. He might as well had died then, but he hadn't. Instead, he had been dragged through the last vestige of his life like torture.

Cornelius knew Wilbur hadn't meant it. That all of that had been frustration. He knew his son loved him, but why then, he didn't understand, could it hurt him so much.

He raised his hand in front of his face.

"What will it be like to die? Will it be painful?" Wilbur had told him he had been burnt so badly he was unrecognizable. So yes, he decided.

"After all that pain, will there be nothing? Will there be just darkness?" He could destroy that logic so easily. Darkness denoted that he would still have eyes. There would be no darkness, he decided.

"I never understood how there could just be nothing? Will I just disappear into nonexistence? Maybe there's a heaven?" The man prided himself on his vast intellect, but intellect denoted an actual functioning brain.

"Even if the soul did exist, it cannot think. Its job is to only exist." His beautiful brain would fry, each cell screaming as intracellular fluid burst through and evaporated. Thank goodness there are no pain sensors in the brain...if only the rest of his body were so lucky.

"How morbid."

Time was fleeting. The anxiety of waiting made him wish that the killer would be a little more considerate and kill him sooner.

A flash of light!

Cornelius stood up in an instant, surprised to see the green time machine flying inside his office.

"Is this it?" He thought.

The two men inside were unfamiliar to him. The top popped open, and the man in the passenger side jumped out.

The man was shorter than he was, though that didn't really surprise Cornelius, since he was taller than most men. It was, however, the color clash on the man's attire that drew his eye. A dizzying use of purples and greens in a cut that was not fashionable even for the most esoteric of fringe social circles.

"They're from the future?"

"The great Cornelius Robinson!" The man grinned. His round face seemed menacing, and it wasn't helped by the strange green tint in his eyes. "I've wanted to meet with you…talk with you for so long."

"You could have asked for an appointment with Ms Arlene downstairs. She would have been able to place you into my schedule." He wanted to stall for time, to put off the inevitable. Enough time that he could accept all of this was actually happening.

"Oh I know. But you see, they say that it would be humanizing your victim. Makes it harder to kill." He pulled out what seemed to Cornelius like a strange pistol. "And I do have the greatest admiration and respect for you and your work. So I do regret having to do this…just a little bit."

He chuckled and pointed the gun at Cornelius's chest. Cornelius could no longer breathe in enough air. Even his body was craving desperately for life.

"If things had gone differently, this wouldn't have been necessary. But it seems, my good man, that you're a really hard rat to kill." He laughed softly. "And the higher ups can't afford for you to live."

"Why? What have I done?" Cornelius asked. He was fine now. He wasn't shaking anymore. So this is acceptance, he thought. His inquisitive mind was now taking over.

"Think of it this way…" His voice softened to try and console him. "If you could go back in time and avert a great disaster…wouldn't you take the chance as well?"

"Disaster?" Cornelius whispered.

"Goodbye, Doctor Robinson." And a flash of light filled Cornelius's senses. Like a film in slow motion, he closed his eyes awaiting the pain that would rip through him…and was surrounded by the distinct sound of thunder.

* * *

Author's note:

Dear Everyone,

So sorry guys this took forever! So sorry! Been extremely busy with school that I'm a week behind all my required reading and studying. First couple of exams are coming up so you can tell that I won't be working on this for a little while. I'll apologize for that in advance. Part one of this whole thing ends with the next chapter and then I'm hoping to finish part 2 by the time spring break ends, though I doubt it myself. I just hope I can finish by the time May rolls around because if I don't, this thing will never get done with all the work I have to do for this summer and next semester.

On a bright note, I've been reading a few books during my free time so I don't go insane, mainly Orson Scott Card's Ender series and also "The Art of Racing in the Rain" by Garth Stein. Now I'm between "Letters from the Earth" by Mark Twain and "Paper Towns" by John Green. If you guys have any suggestions about good reading material, please feel free to comment. (hint: I will disown anyone that even whispers or thinks about Twilight.)

Until the next time we meet.

J


	11. Chapter 11

Note: Hi. It's been a while.

* * *

Chapter 11

Dust was everywhere. It stung his eyes. It traveled down his throat and kept him from breathing. The gunman was nowhere to be found. There was a stench in the air, like burnt, rotting meat. More importantly---

He looked down, ran his fingers through his hair, across his chest. Nothing. No hole or blasted flesh or the gelatinous sensation of blood dripping across his skin. Had the gunman missed? No. That hadn't sounded like a gunshot at all actually. More like thunder, but that was impossible.

Cornelius's mind raced as it tried to take in all the information he could. What had caused the noise? Several hypotheses came to mind immediately, the first one being divine intervention, though he highly doubted _that_.

"Are you alright?"

Cornelius looked to the gloved hand that was extended to him through the dust, and as it settled, he saw a hooded man. Hair of the most stunning silver and eyes that shone with an inner golden fire peeked through the shadows of that hood. Like a god out of myth. An Apollo. His mouth slightly parted, out of breath. Could this truly be divine intervention?

There was something about this hooded man though. It was the curve of his face and the way his eyes looked at him. All so unsettling in its familiarity.

"Come with me if you want to live, Doctor Robinson."

* * *

"And we ran for it, basically," Cornelius explains.

The scientist had stripped his large jacket off and had sat on the chair in what Wilbur recognizes as his father's methodical way of sitting. Back straight, head up, hands clasped in front of him, legs splayed apart.

"Yeah, it's him alright," he thinks fondly, "not an impostor. Not an illusion."

"So…how are you Wilbur?"

Wilbur is broken out of his thoughts. "Just fine, dad."

Cornelius stands up and walks towards him. He takes his son's hands into his own. Wilbur hadn't even noticed it, but his hands were shaking.

"I'm okay really." Wilbur pulls away. "You don't have to keep worrying about me."

"…Sure. If that's what you want."

The door slams open, and Cornelius jumps directly in front of Wilbur. The hooded man enters, his steps echoing sharply against the walls.

"Don't do that! I thought we were getting attacked again." His father breathes a sigh of relief.

The hooded man grunts back.

"So…who is this guy anyway? Are you sure we can trust him?" Wilbur asks.

"More than I trust the ones who are trying to kill me."

"Hmm. It doesn' matter what ya think," the hooded man says, "You either trust me or you die. You're intelligent enough to make the right choice, Cornelius."

"And what of our pursuers?"

"I's able to buy us time, but I don' know for how long."

The hooded man finally removes his leather jacket, and Wilbur understands what his father had meant. Silver. Like moonlight. And his eyes were like the sun.

"What ya' lookin' at?"

There was something about the hooded man. Something…grating. His accent, Wilbur deduces. It was that foreign accent giving him an aura of strangeness, never-mind his outright appearance.

"Nothing…"

"Then don' stare. This ain' a circus."

He walks around the beam of light on the floor and leans against wall where the darkest shadows stagnate.

"So, any ideas as to how to get out of this mess, Cereus?"

He keeps silent for a moment. Had he heard the question? Had he fallen asleep?

"I do…but you'll probally hate me for sayin't."

"Does everyone from the future not know how to speak English or something?" Wilbur asks to which the man named Cereus only sighs in response.

"Wilbur…" Cornelius shakes his head and returns his concerns back to the man in front of them. "Lay it down for me. What are my options?"

"If you allow me…I could kill them for you."

"No. Not again."

Again? Wilbur soon realizes the one fact he had overlooked since Cornelius' return. Who was the burnt man in his father's grave?

Cornelius glances at him, and Wilbur pretends not to have heard as he sits looking at his fingernails.

"The option's always open, when ya stop bein' so naïve."

"Don't need your judgments, Cereus. I just need to know what we should do next."

"We can def'ly just keep runnin' 'til they run outta steam."

"And how would that help any?" Wilbur asks. "They have a time machine. It'll be us that will get tired first."

"Well…t'was one of the better ideas."

"Why can't we just go to the future and stop them there?" It was so simple that Wilbur couldn't believe that they had not thought of it before.

"No," Cereus answers, "not an option."

"You're just mad that you didn't think of it yourself!"

"Hmm. I would'a thought that you learnt your lesson." Cereus looks at the watch on his wrist. "Bad things happen to li'l boys who mess with time."

"How did you know about that?" Had his father told him? When?

"We need to get outta here an' soon, Cornelius. Anywhere we can hide for a while." Wilbur couldn't believe he was being ignored.

"Only one place left _to_ go." Cornelius sighs and turns to Wilbur. "Won't your mother be surprised?"

* * *

"So I'm guessin' she didn' take it too well," Cereus says as he enters the dining room.

"Not the reaction I was expecting," Cornelius groans as he pats the bag off ice on his face.

"Lemme see. No' too bad. I woulda probally hit ya harder." Cereus smirks. His hood is up once more. Cornelius makes a mental note to ask him about that later on.

"So what's the plan from here?"

"Like there was ever a plan from the start."

The man stands a little too close. A little too comfortable. And it reminds him, of the question that has been gnawing at the scientist for some time.

"Cereus…why did you save me? How did you know I was in danger?" Cornelius looks at him analytically. Hypotheses running through his head. Too little information, too many conjectures. He needed anything. A word. A phrase. A clue to narrow all the possibilities down to one. He needed to know why he was unsettled. Find out why this man's smirk had unnerved him.

His gaze is through the window, careful to avoid Cornelius' eyes. A faraway look into the horizon. The sunlight touches his hair, and though it might have been a trick of his eye, Cornelius thinks the silver seems to be radiating even more deeply.

"I's just in the neighborhood. Tha's all."

"But how did you get here?"

"Hmm…I think someone's comin'."

"You're not answering my question."

"Be wary. I feel evil intent comin' this way."

Cereus stands up from his seat as Franny walks through the door. Her face is calm, but Cornelius notices her eyes. Like daggers.

"Jus' takin' my leave, Mrs. Robinson." His voice shakes a little as he tries to wriggle his way around her.

She does not blink or even acknowledge his existence. All she does is keep her eyes on her husband.

"I'm really sorry Franny. I would've told you I was alive. Honest." He stutters as she stands directly in front of him. "It was just too dangerous to let you find out."

Her hand rises like a claw, slowly inching for his face.

"I didn't want to put you in any more danger." He flinches as she takes the bag off his face.

"It almost looks good on you," she says, and a chill runs up his spine. But her gaze softens with each passing second.

"I've really missed you Cornelius."

* * *

From all the excitement, Wilbur hadn't noticed he was so deathly hungry. His stomach grumbles, and that is always intolerable to a growing teenage boy. So he finds himself in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator, removing plates of leftovers, and placing them on the table in front of him. A leg of turkey, a piece of apple pie, some mashed potatoes, and a cold slice of pizza.

"A worthy appetizer," he says with his mouth salivating.

"You shouldn' eat so much, you might get fat in the future."

And Wilbur's appetite disappears (just slightly!) as Cereus comes from around the corner. "How would dad have described it? Oh yes, inverse relationship," he thought.

"You want some?" He mumbles with the turkey leg lodged in his mouth.

"No. It's fine."

Awkward silence.

"Um. Thanks. You know. For saving my dad and all," he says.

"We' not through this yet."

Awkward silence...yet again.

"Um. Where are you from?"

"The future."

"I meant what year."

"3065."

"Woah! Really?"

"Yes."

"What's it like? Do robots look like people now? Is there a cure for the common cold? Do we still have to go to school?"

Cereus looks out the window once more. "It's the same basically. Just a little less peaceful."

"Well, that's boring."

"Sorry. Can't really tell ya much more 'an that. Time stream an' such."

"Can you take me to see the future? You know, when this is over."

"Maybe…"

Something falls from the ceiling. A chip of white paint. To Wilbur's closer inspection, pieces of the house are falling off one by one.

"Hmm? That's weird."

And with that, the house begins to rock violently. A buzzing noise, like a bee, grows louder and louder, until Wilbur has to block out the noise with his hands. Even then, his whole body is shaking, no, more like vibrating.

"Wilbur!" He hears Cereus slightly. "Get down!"

He tackles the boy to the ground right before the side of the wall collapses in a shower of sparks and fire.

"Wibur! We gotta' move! They're already 'ere!"

They run through the smoke as more explosions erupt outside. The windows break open in a shower of glass. Wilbur stumbles. He screams.

"Cereus! Something hit me!"

"Where?" Wilbur points at a long gash on his leg.

"You're fine. Only a flesh wound! We have to get your dad and run!"

"What about the rest of my family?"

"They'll be fine!" Wilbur looks around. His house. It was dying in front of his eyes. Those days of comfort are gone now.

"I need to get the others to safety!" Wilbur tries to pull away.

"Wilbur." Cereus comes up close and speaks into his ear, "Trust me. Everything will be fine. Just run and don't look back."

Before they can, a shape emerges from the smoke.

"Ya ain't goin' nowhere. Just hand the kid over and we'll be peachy." Something about this man's hair also catches Wilbur's attention. The same translucent quality in a reddish hue. The eyes too are haunting.

"Wilbur. Stay behind me."

"Give him to me or I'll take 'im by force." The air around him shimmers, and it begins to growl. He'd heard that noise before, but where?

"Get down!" Cereus pushes Wilbur to the ground again as blue flame erupts from the man's hands. It leaps into the air and crashes into Cereus, the force of it knocking him straight through a wall.

Wilbur feels the heat crawling on his skin and draws back.

"Come on kid. You'll be safe with us. Nothin' to worry about."

Wilbur looks around him, at the devastation, and takes one last look at the man in front of him before launching himself into kick.

"Agh! God!" It is as if his foot has smashed against a brick wall.

"Gotta be tough huh? Jus' couldn' be good boyo and do what's told." He grabs his foot and pulls. Wilbur falls and is dragged across the floor.

"Let me go! Let me go!" He flails and kicks, but the man doesn't stop.

"You know, you really shouldn' have done that." Cereus groans as Wilbur watches him stand back up against the wall. His coat is in tatters now, his hood having been blasted off his face, and his hair begins to glow brighter and brighter.

The man drops Wilbur's foot, and his face changes to horror.

"You're one of 'em bloomers!"

"Yeah, they call us that." And Cereus' light fills the hall, growing in intensity until Wilbur has to look away or risk serious blindness. As he shuts his eyes, the sound of lightning erupts, and there is the familiar burst of heat. A momentary shot of pain through his ears, then silence. The thought that maybe he has gone deaf leaves him with panic until the silence resolves into ringing, and then a voice becoming clearer and clearer.

"Wilbur. The coast is clear now. It's time to move"

"Where'd he go?" To which Cereus replies with a sad smile.

"What was all that? How did he do that? How did _you_ do that? What are you people?" Wilbur asks frantically.

"Not people, I can assure you."

* * *

To be continued in part 12-

Hopefully it hasn' t been too long since I last updated. It looks like this thing is going to be running a little lengthier than I expected. Should be okay right? I hope so.

And thank you very much again for your reviews. They are always welcome.

And I apologize for those of you who hate accents. I was trying to shorten words without being too "Their Eyes Were Watching God"


	12. Chapter 12

Author's note: It's been a few months since I updated. So let's recap.

* * *

Wilbur travels to the present.

Oh shiz, he brings bad news!

Cornelius dead! Let's use the time machine to fix everything.

Say what! Cornelius is still dead...or is he?

Wilbur gets chased by two bad guys in weird costumes.

OMG, the guy with the top hat is really his dad.

They're back home now. Happy reunion!

Noooo, future house gets attacked!

* * *

Now back to our scheduled program.

* * *

Chapter 12

"So you're not mad at me?" Cornelius asks hesitantly.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Franny smiles, but the sharpness in her eyes silences him from answering. "You're going to have to work very hard to get back into my good graces."

"What can I do then?"

"For one thing, don't die before me," she says as she wraps her arms around him.

"Well, statistically, the chances of that are quite slim. Evolutionarily speaking, males tend to live shorter lives and within our species, a time gap of at least twenty years exists ergo-"

"Just shut up and kiss your wife." And the taste of her exploded in his mouth. Her grip on his shirt keeping him from taking a single breath.

Cornelius had missed this. Running for his life, he had had other things to worry about; but now, the exhaustion of it all, the relief of feeling and seeing his wife, makes him want to collapse into her embrace and smell the perfume of her hair.

"Hm, not too bad," she says, "you might need some more practice."

"Being dead has a way with people."

"Well, you weren't, and that's all that really matters right. You know," she says as she traces her finger across his chest, "there's nobody at home right now. Why don't we go upstairs and-"

"Franny? What's wrong?"

"I thought I saw someone coming up the backyard." She peers through the glass. Cornelius follows suit, seeing nothing of note except for the trees blowing in the wind.

"Probably just your imagination."

"Maybe. I'm just a little antsy today…what's that noise?"

"What noise?" Cornelius asks.

"There's this ringing in my ear that's getting worse."

"Ringing?" He listens more intently.

"Yes," he thinks, "is that a bell?"

He looks down. On the table is a single glass of water, waves growing more turbulent on the surface.

"Vibrati-"

* * *

Cornelius wakes up to a pounding rhythm threatening to split his head open in half. He remembers the blast and his impromptu flight across the room. Unconsciousness must have occurred right as his head had smashed against the wall.

"How long was I out?" He asks himself as he cradles his head in his hands. The beating of his heart throbs against the inside of his skull.

"Not so very long, Doctor." Seductive, deep, an almost Russian accent.

Sitting on the pile of rubble that was once the dining room's west wall is a beautiful woman fully dressed in leather. She looks at him intently. Her golden hair in a bun held in place by chopsticks. She wears an eye patch with a snake imprinted directly on top of it.

"Hmmm ahhh," she sighs as she inhales with her face to the sky. "Feel that good twenty-first century air. Nothing quite like it."

"So this is how the sky looks without the Scar. It's beautiful."

Cornelius manages to lean against the other wall. Pain shoots up his leg. Hopefully not broken, he thinks.

"What do you want?"

"You, of course, doctor."

"If you want to kill me, now's your chance. I can't run away." His eyes look back and forth. Where was Franny?

"If you're wondering about the lovely lady, she is safe. No worries." She nods her head to the side and someone steps up beside her. A masked man carries Fran in his arms.

"Let her go." He talks more to the man with the mask. He does not speak a word, merely nods and places her down on the table. Or what was left of it.

"Come with us Doctor, and your wife will be left alone. I promise," she says as she extends her hand to him.

"I can't really refuse now, can't I?"

"That's the point, Doctor."

"You," he says to the masked man, "are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me up?"

Cornelius hooks an arm over the man's shoulder and steals one last glance at his wife as he limps towards the blonde before him. He tries to meet the masked man's eyes, tries to garner some sort of sympathy. Their faces are surprisingly level, but where were the eyevholes? How is he seeing?

"I should at least know the names of my hosts?"

"This tall guy here…well, him we call Mask. Don't talk so much. And you probably already asked yourself how he sees through that." She shrugs her shoulders.

She then points to her eye patch. "And mine, incidentally enough, I'm called Snake. Pleasure doing business with you."

"Charmed, I'm sure. I would offer you some refreshments, but it seems we're all out."

"Thank you for the offer but I not so thirsty. How about you, Mask?"

"-"

They walk outside to the setting sun. On the hill, the green time machine appears. Another trip in time that wasn't going to end well, he thought.

* * *

Wilbur watches as the time machine disappears into the sky. "Dad."

Too late, if only by one minute. They could have saved him. He had seen him board the ship. Seen him turn with his pained face, looking straight at Wilbur. If he'd only been faster. If he only had power...

"Is she okay?" he asks Cereus as the man tends to his unconscious mother.

"Yeah, jus' a few bruises."Wilbur had also helped bandage her few injuries. "Physical examination reveals no other remarkable signs. No broken bones or crush trauma. Pupils equally round and reactive to light. Pulses to extremities are- "

Cereus catches the confused look on Wilbur's face. "Ah, yes. She'll be fine."

His gaze shifts to the west, where the darkness of the night meets the last vestiges of the sun. The clouds burn in an array of oranges and purples. "If I am to follow, I mus' go now, while the sun's still present."

"The sun?"

Cereus pulls his hood back to let the light touch his face for the first time, and his hair begins to shine, like a pulsing star. And his eyes begin to glow with an inner fire, as if gold was truly burning within him. Wilbur can feel the heat and pressure he emenated.

"To absorb enough energy to break through space-time." He walks to the empty field in the backyard, opening his jacket to let the light dance across his bare arms.

"Take me with you."

"I can't allow that."

"They have my dad! You have to let me go with you!"

Cereus bites his lip for a moment. "You know, I will pro'ly regret this."

"So you'll take me?"

"Yes." Wilbur jumps into the air. "But only under a few conditions."

"Sure anything!"

"Never leave my side. Always do as I say."

"Check. Check."

"And never le' on that you're Wilbur Robinson, not to anyone, ya hear?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"DO YOU PROMISE?"

"Alright! I promise, geez. You don't have to yell."

"Then take my hand." With Cereus in front of him, shining like a beacon now, his face set like a statue. As his father had said, like a Greek god. For an instant, he feels the smoothness of Cereus's fingertips, then intense nausea as if he had spun himself into vertigo. Like the feeling of a thousand roller coasters all wrapped into one, threatening to tear his whole body apart.

* * *

Wilbur's eyes open into a wide expanse. A cliff meets him where the sky is swirling all around, melting off the heavens in an array of colors. As far as his eyes can see, it is a waterfall that keeps dropping into an infinite chasm. Yes, a waterfall. There is a sound that's just like it too, he thought. The sound of a million growling dogs.

"You…do not...belong here."

He turns to the voice. Behind him lay ruins. Stone columns weathered by time, grayed by the ages. It is a small piece of land floating within the vast emptiness. And there, in the middle of it all, sits a man on stone throne. His legs are crossed; his chin rests upon his hand. A golden mask hides his face.

"Who are you?" Wilbur asks.

"You…should not…be here." The voice arises from all around him. It is gasping, rasp.

"Where am I?"

The masked man uncrosses his legs, and Wilbur can feel the air shift, vibrating. He would have stepped back except for the endless cliff behind him.

Slow, the masked men took such slow steps. "How long has it been...since I last uttered...a single word?"

"How long has it been... since I left...this throne?" His thin fingers emerge from his glistening robes, creeping like a growing tendril towards the light. Wilbur's body seems to be frozen in place as those fingers touch his cheek.

"How long has it been... since I last saw...another face?" The man takes him into his arms. "This face... especially."

"But you... don't belong... here."

"You will...unbalance...the equilibrium...calculation." And with that, Wilbur feels the pressure on his chest and the pull of gravity as his feet leave the ground.

It catches him by surprise. For the first second or two, what registers in his mind is disbelief. Afterward comes the realization that he is falling.

"No!" Wilbur screams. He tries to grab something. Anything. But, there is nothing. No one. Time slows down for Wilbur. He looks directly at the masked man's face. There are no eye holes, yet it seems the man is looking straight at him. Through him. Killing him.

* * *

"Wilbur. Wake up!"

He jolts himself forward, his hand clutching Cereus' arm in a vise. The thought of falling still haunts him, and it takes some time before the hard ground beneath reassures him of where he is.

"Just having a bad dream?"

"Yeah…just a dream." The memory is still fresh. His chest can still feel that man's fingers pushing against him.

WIlbur stands up, dusts himself off. Nausea crashed through him and it seems that heavy lunch of his has come right back up.

"Alright there buddy?" Cereus asks. Wilbur opens his mouth to answer, only to retch once more.

What seems like an age passes before Wilbur looks up and stares into the horizon as movement catches his eye.

"Cereus…what is that?"

Something large is reflecting the sun. Metallic. It floats in the sky, lazily, like a gigantic, golden football with wings. It is the biggest thing Wilbur has ever seen. It must have been miles long. Now focusing even harder, he begins to discern smaller replicas zipping across the clouds.

"Oh that? That is the royal airship, the Apollo Far-Darter." Cereus frowns as he tries to cover as much of his skin from the light. "And that is completely bad news for us. We better move."

It hadn't been obvious to Wilbur at first glance, but they had appeared on top of a tall building. It was surrounded by smaller spires. A bustling city, yet completely different from what Wilbur was familiar with. Instead of the bright colors Robinson Industries usually promoted, this city is dark. An aura surrounds it. And right past the Apollo, tearing across the sky, are what seems to be claw marks raking against it. Like a wound beyond the clouds. And past all that, beyond the edges, is the familiar aurora of color from his dreams. It is all melting.

"No," Wilbur thinks, "the sky is bleeding."

Cereus takes a step and immediately collapses, bringing Wilbur back from his thoughts. "Yeah…this is bad alright."

"What's wrong?"

"I must'a used too much energy. My body feels weak."

"What do we do then?"

"Stick tight," he answers, "it's already too late to escape anyway."

Wilbur didn't notice them until he follows Cereus's gaze. Three people stand behind him. Perfectly still. Clad in black. The girl in the middle has her dark hair blowing in the breeze.

"Hey guys," Cereus says, "How's the weather been the last coupl'a days?"

"Been great," the girl replies, "better than you will be once we take you back to the tower."

"Well, Antares. Don' have to be so gloomy about it."

"Cereus. What'll we do with ya sometimes?" The man to her left speaks.

"Just having a little bit of fun, Valerian."

"Yeah. And breaking all intertemporal laws with it." He shakes his head.

"And you, Allysum?" Cereus asks.

The younger man with the shocking blue hair to the right keeps silent. To Wilbur, this Allysum seems uninterested in what is going on around him.

"As laconic as ever. I like that." Cereus tries to stand. "Can someone at least give me a hand here?"

"And who's this?" Valerian points to Wilbur. "Please don't tell me..."

"Just a native. Gonna help me find our criminals."

"Again! Do I not speak of intertemporal laws? Do I never speak about breaking them?" Valerian asks. His voice begins to rise at each syllable.

Cereus turns to Wilbur and whispers, "Remember our deal."

"And what's your name, soldier?" Valerian asks as he helps Cereus to his feet.

"Wil-" He catches Cereus's glance. "-son! The name's Wilson."

"Pleasure." Valerian shakes his hand. He turns to Antares, and says, "Are you ready?"

"Been."

"Hold on tight Wilson. This could be a bumpy ride." There is a slight smile on Valerian's face.

"Wait. What for?"

Antares's eyes begin to glow. Surrounding them in blinding light, and then just as suddenly receding. It feels as if the world itself is moving around them. Buildings are shifting, moving left and right, to be replaced once again.

When the light has truly vanished, gone are the spires. What replaces them are tall, alabaster columns which rise to meet an arched ceiling. Red carpet flows on the floor, across mosaic tiles, towards a throne on the far end. Eyes dart directly towards them.

What catches his attention is the stained glass window above the throne. The sun and moon shining brightly upon a garden of flowers. The yellow of the sun offsets the cool blues that surround it.

"Well, this is a surprise." The man on the throne stands to greet them. "Welcome back, Cereus."

Cereus and the others: Antares, Valerian, and Allysum, in turn, bend to one knee front of this man. Wearing black leather that seems to wrap all around him. Wilbur has seen something like that before. Like an asylum jacket. And the crown on his head, a metallic vine of jewels. Like thorns wrapping around his red hair.

Then he turns to Wilbur. "And we have a guest!"

A man to the side appears and says, "Fair traveler, be at ease in the presence of his Imperial Highness, Abraxas Soren Val'Zion. We welcome you to the Hall of the Night Blooming Flowers."

* * *

Notes: No excuses here. Sorry this took so long. Expected release of the next chapter is sometime in late December.


	13. Chapter 13

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

An hour has already passed since Wilbur was ushered into a secluded spot by Allysum. Not a word was spoken; just the way he looked at Wilbur sent the message that he wasn't supposed to move until he was called on. He found himself standing in the middle of a garden. Though enclosed on all sides by high walls, the roof was open to the sky.

The full moon is already at its zenith, bathing the garden in cool ambient light. And there seems to be such a variety of flowers blooming around him. Firefly lights blink in and out of existence like falling snow.

"My boy, I hope my Majordomo didn' put you off." The emperor smiles as he joins him. It is all disarming, seemingly lopsided when Wilbur thinks about the station of the person before him. He was broad-shouldered trimmed beard. The sheer size of him, up close, put Wilbur on edge. He had to be a giant.

"Not at all, your Imperial Highness." He could feel his heart catching in his throat. He was in front of an emperor for crying out loud! When else would he ever get the chance to speak to royalty?

"Don't blow this Wil!" his inner voice cheers him on.

"No need for the formalities. Wilson, wasn't it? You can call me, Soren." He puts his hand out to shake.

"Yes…Your Highness." The emperor sighs as Wilbur bows instead.

"So what do you think so far?"

"Of what?"

"My land, of course! I heard from Valerian that you are…" Soren rubs his bearded chin. "Not from around here."

"Yes…is Cereus gonna get in trouble? I swear it wasn't his fault!"

"It's alright!" He laughs. "Cereus is a special case. I trust his judgment in such things."

"Um…if you don't mind me asking, Your Highness," he says the last part in a rush, "why is it that you're the only one around here that actually talks normal?"

"Hahaha! Oh my boy! I'm actually talking in the ancient way. Around here, it'll be you who's talking strangely."

Wilbur waits for the emperor's laughter to die down. Then awkward silence as the giant of a man looks up into the sky.

"If you have to know, this is Cereus's favorite spot," Soren says to break the silence.

"Yes…"

Soren looks at him intently then smiles again. It must have been that smile that got him into office. If, by chance, emperor's are elected in this era.

The door suddenly opens, and Cereus marches in. He looks weary.

"Chewed out?" Soren asks.

"Verily, Your Highness. Valerian loves to create long lists of my folly." He rubs his forehead. "Any more and my head would shatter from the immensity of it all."

"I've asked you time and time again not to call me that, Cereus."

"Well," Cereus smiles, "it wouldn't suit your status if a lowly agent like myself were to go around calling you Soren now." The emperor laughs, though Wilbur truly doesn't get the joke.

Cereus's attention focuses to something past Wilbur. He walks to the far corner and admires some scraggly cacti. "It's blossoming quite well," he notes of the gossamer white petals and the long filaments which end in an array of gold.

"It matches his eyes," Wilbur thinks.

"Your name sake, isn't it?" Soren plays with the petals in his hands. "The name suits you quite well. Just like a cactus."

"You could say that again," Wilbur whispers, to which Soren laughs aloud once more.

"Come, young Wilson! You must be exhausted from your long trip. You will be boarding with Cereus for a time."

"Oh, do I have to?"

"Come now! Cereus is not all that bad." Soren looks at Cereus. "Well, maybe just a little surly..."

"Don't give him any ideas, Your Highness." He turns to Wilbur. "Let's go. It's getting late... and there's someone I want you to meet."

* * *

"Brother!" The resemblance is striking to say the least. The same silver hair shining softly in the dim light of Cereus's palace apartment; the same golden eyes.

"Gentian." Cereus embraces the small boy as he leapt into his arms. "How have you been?"

The effect was instantaneous. To Wilbur's surprise, Cereus's perpetual scowl softens. Had he died and gone to hell where this was his eternal punishment?

"I've missed you, brother!" Then he sees Wilbur. "Who's this?"

And that wasn't without some malice. The boy seems to hug Cereus a little tighter, rubbing their cheeks together slightly.

"This is our guest. His name is Wilson. Say 'hi' to the nice man." He sets him down and the child just barely came up to his chest.

"Hi there. How old are you, little guy?" Wilbur asks in a baby voice.

Gentian looks up at him with doggy eyes, and then places his hands on his hips. "God, I hate when these people use the baby voice. What am I? Seven?"

Wilbur was speechless. Valerian, on the other hand, was chuckling softly.

"And Valerian. How old are you? Playing tricks like this," Gentian says.

"Couldn't help it, Gent."

Gentian sighs. "I' sorry about all that. My brother here made me an offer I couldn' resist."

Money exchanges hands though the two try their hardest not to notice what they are doing. It's all done quickly though, with what Wilbur suspects is practiced efficiency.

"So, Wilson. Where'd you come along?" Gentian asks.

What? "Um…not from around here…I think."

"Somewhere from the twenty-first century then. Polyester blend clothing gave you 'way. Pro'ly pre-2050 when thems starte' using galliun fibe'."

Wilbur looks to Cereus, whose face was a mask. But the slight twitch in his cheek tells something else. Panic maybe. Smart little runt, isn't he?

"So little brother. What've you been up to since I was last here?"

"D'ya wanna see?" Though it isn't really a question.

His short legs are faster than they look. Was he a midget? Nothing seems out of proportion. Gentian leads them to a set of wooden doors that open into a large open space. Well, not quite open. Actually, it is filled with machines of all types.

"Woah!"

Wilbur's surprise is justified in that this could even rival Cornelius's lab. Blinking lights. Steel pipes. Electricity that dances inside glass tubes. Weird, otherworldly sounds. As his father had said, no lab was truly a lab without the sounds…no matter how pointless they were.

"A new energy source! A hint. It definitely copies what we garden variety folk use to power ourselves."

"So sunlight. But how's the efficiency on this…" Cereus rambles on a few questions.

Wilbur couldn't grasp the rest. His father may have been able to. He would have been at home here. Correction. Cornelius would have been in heaven. He and Gentian would probably get along very nicely.

And the thoughts of his father made his eyes itch. Itch, mind you. Wilbur Robinson does not cry. As a boy creature, he has no tear glands.

"Cereus. We're wasting too much time. We have to find my father."

Gentian stops in mid-sentence. "Brother. What's he talking about?"

"Nothing you have to get into, Gent."

"Brother. I want in." His eyes blaze. Hungry.

"The answer is no."

"Why! Is it because I' small? Haven' I showed I can do it?"

"Gentian, I know you're a good agent. But we need you in operations. Not in the field."

"But brother!"

Cereus knelt to one knee, placing himself at eye level. "Gentian. I say 'no.'"

Wilbur could almost feel the crushing disappointment. How close he is to tears. How he looks away from his brother to hide his sadness.

Cereus sighs. "To tell you the truth…" He softly turns his chin so the boy looks directly at him. "I had planned to let you go point on the next mission."

"Really? Then what changed your mind? My strategies are flawless. I follow orders to the letter. I have recommendations up to me neck. Please tell me what I can do. What I can change! I'll do anything you want me to do."

"This mission is special. Classified information that I just can't get into with you. But once this is over…" Cereus smiles.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Gentian wipes at his eyes. "But, you'll let me help, won't you? Planning, I mean."

"Of course! What would I do without my strategos by my side?" He ruffles his hair.

Wilbur interrupts. "I know this is supposed to be a sweet moment right now but, my dad…"

Cereus nods. There is the hardness in his eyes again which spread downward to the rest of his body. His hands seem to be strangling an invisible foe. The air around him darkens.

"Yeah. We have work to do."

* * *

It was dark. Not surprising since the building is technically below the ground. No windows on the walls. No accoutrements hanging to make it somewhat homey. This was depressing, Snake decided. Too clinical. Too white and clean.

"If I had the time," she thinks to herself," I'd put some family pics up. Maybe a deer head. Some curtains. I'll even paint a window with a nice view of the Southern Riviera."

"Do you really think we can trust him?" asks the man who was walking by her side.

"Can we truly trust anyone, Bends?" Snake asks in return.

"How philosophical."

They turn a corner into a closed door.

"If you wan' an answer, all I can say is that he has his own agendas. As long as our agendas are parallel, all's roses."

"I don' like it." His eyes glow a pale crimson in the dark.

The man is too volatile. Can't keep his emotions in check, she thinks.

"I didn' ask if it meshed with your sensibilities."

"Don' come cryin' to me when he stabs you in the back," Bends throws up his hands in disgust.

"I'll try to keep that in mind."

"And how about the Mask fellow? How far can we trust him?"

Snake places her palm on the lock, which turns red to green as the door opens with a rush of cold air. Without hesitation, she says, "Him, I don't trust."

Cornelius Robinson and Mask are the only two in the room. They sit in silence, separated by the table between them. Mask is studying Cornelius intently…or that's what Snake thought. It's really hard to know what someone is thinking when you can't see their face.

"Comfortable?"

Both don't answer.

"Like one big happy family," she says sarcastically.

To her, Cornelius looks deathly ill in the light. Maybe he's having second thoughts. "I don't need your pleasantries. Let's get this done as soon as possible. I want to go home."

"Betrayal leaving a bitter taste in your mouth?"

He looks away, the pain on his face tangible. She hadn't wanted to hurt him but he had to know: "You're doing this of your own free will."

"I wish I wasn't."

Mask keeps his silence.

"No other complaints? Then we have work to do."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Happy Holidays! Right now, busy downloading a ton of books into my Nook. New Year's resolution: getting the cojones to actually write and publish a book. Wish me luck. And I wish you luck on your resolutions.


	14. Chapter 14

I would like to thank everyone for giving this fanfic a chance. And for staying with it for this long. I appreciate all the reviews that come my way: the good and the bad. I keep them all close to my heart. This is a learning experience for me so I thank you for tolerating the experiments in writing style.

* * *

Chapter 14

A week goes by rather quickly, but there is no sign. No ransom note. No video of Cornelius being beheaded. No phone call for negotiations. If there were, Wilbur and Cereus would have been on it, tracking signals and mobilizing men. Instead, Wilbur is stuck in the palace, looking at computer screens for hours on end. It is all beginning to strain at his eyes, though it could be because of the poor lighting in the room. Wilbur had noticed that Cereus and Gentian like to keep their nest minimalistic at best. Two chairs. Two computers. Seven large screens that decorate the walls all around him.

"Wilbur. You should get some rest. You haven't slept in ages," Cereus suggests.

"No. I want to be here. When you find anything."

"But then, what would you be able to do, exhausted as you are?"

Wilbur knew he was going to say that.

"You'd only get in the way. So please, get some rest now. I promise to wake you when I get anything."

"Okay! Okay…you promise, right?"

Cereus nods without turning away from the screen. "Goodnight, Wilbur."

The fatigue definitely catches up to Wilbur. It is inside every muscle of his body, straining him. He yawns, barely able to stand from his seat. His eyes can hardly stay open. Yes, getting some sleep is starting to become a good idea.

The door suddenly opens with a cold burst of air, and Gentian's miniature form appears.

"Go' mornin'!" He says as he stretches his arms over his head. Just coming out of bed, his hair sticks out in strange but sharp angles, pillow lines embedded on his face.

"I, on the other hand, bid you 'good night', twerp." Wilbur ruffles the boy's hair.

"Ah, stop mussing the money maker!" Gentian scrunches his face. "I got somethin' for you."

Wilbur sees the envelope in his hand. "Hmm?"

"An invitation to the ball tonight."

"What ball?" He looks over at Cereus. "I didn't hear of no ball."

"One of Soren's ideas." Cereus keeps typing without end, the clacking of keys actually increasing in speed. "For you apparently."

"But I don't have time for this."

"Wil-son." Cereus quickly corrects himself as he catches Gentian. "Soren is the emperor. It would not be wise to decline."

"Really?" Wilbur massages the corners of his eyes. "Let's just get this over with, then."

"Hopefully, you have somethin' nice to wear." Gentian takes Wilbur's place by the monitor. "You wouldn' wanna look like a commoner now, would you?"

It still surprised Wilbur how mature Gentian sounded sometimes.

"You don't, do you?"

"I left my time in a hurry, to be honest," Wilbur says.

"Gentian will take you around." Cereus intervenes.

"Hey, I had nothin' to do with him not being socially acceptable!"

"Well, since you were the one who seemed set on dressing Wilson up…"

And that seems to be the end of the conversation. Gentian sighs. " I should've kept me trap shut."

* * *

Cornelius knows what he has to do. He had accepted Snake's offer. Had signed off on the plan. Made it even more effective...But was it the right thing? It definitely wasn't honorable, laying a trap for someone who had saved you.

"Doctor, I have it on good sources that there will be ball at the palace. Tonight. What luck!"Snake says.

"What of it?"

"Crash it, of course!" As if she did this on a yearly basis. "For an inventor, you seem to have no imagination."

"And I'll be able to save my son?" Cornelius asks.

"If he doesn't resist…but that's why we have our secret weapon."

* * *

"This thing is killing me," Wilbur groans. The piece of cloth around his neck reminded him of those ties his mother used to dress him up with. Though they didn't cut off his air directly, the thought of something wrapping around his air pipe like a noose made him uncomfortable each time. At least this one didn't have a stupid frog on it.

"Try not to let it bother you," Gentian says though Wilbur could see that he is also struggling not to gag, loosening it bit by bit.

The ball is already under way. The sounds of a string quartet resound throughout the hall. A space in front of the throne is open to dancing, with men and women twirling in their fancy dresses. The chandeliers are all alight bathing the hall in a soft glow, the shadows occupied by more than one young couple, kissing behind a quivering lady's fan. The glass doors to the terrace were open, a cool breeze wafting in, scenting the room in a gentle perfume of flowers.

Wilbur looks across the dance floor, seeing a few girls are looking at him right now. "What are they doing?"

They giggle as he blushes.

"I think they want to dance with you." Was that really the case?

One, dark haired maiden, separates from the gaggle. She looks back at her friends, and they giggle as they urge her on. She slowly opens her mouth to speak when he feels someone's hand on his shoulder. Wilbur turns, expecting Cereus to relieve him from this situation.

"Hi." This new lady seems to press her body a little too closely to him. She adjusts a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Wilbur blushes even deeper. Pretty. Her green eyes were beautiful. Translucent even. Or was it just the lighting?

"Hi. Um…my name is…uh. Wilson."

"Hi Wilson. Cassandra." She places her hand forward. Wilbur shakes it which earns an audible giggle from Gentian.

"Wilson. I think the young lady wants you take her around the room." Cereus suddenly appears next to him.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, my lady. My friend here is charming but none too bright." Cassandra and Gentian both laugh softly. "She wants to be your first partner."

"Oh. Oh!"

She takes his hand in hers and pulls him to the center of the dance floor. She starts to lead, spins him once, and shifts to the left. One-two-three. One-two-three.

"Sorry. I have…um…two left feet." He stumbles a bit more. Um...one-two-three.

"You're doing great actually. First time?" He nods.

"Everyone's wondering who this guest of honor was. A ball thrown by the Serene Emperor himself. We thought it must have been a very important person."

"You mean Soren?"

She laughs. "Must be very important. To truly call the Serene Emperor by name."

It has crossed him mind a few times why an emperor was treating him so nicely.

"And then…friends with the Luxifere. Something must be special about you. Not just a looker, I see."

He begins to hear the way she speaks. Very much like Gentian. Not just in that funny accent of theirs. It is the way they talked with subtly meant tones which doesn't mesh with their youth.

"The Lu-ci…ferre?"

"Yes, that brooding man right over there." She nods towards Cereus. Even with the soft glow that emanates from him, the air seem to darken. The older man strikes an elegant figure in his black suit, inlaid with rubies on his chest. Certainly he seems so aloof, even within the ring of Night Bloomer agents that were speaking so animatedly around him. "Oh the countless secrets that man has. How old must he be? Five hundred? Six hundred years old?"

Wilbur stops in his tracks. The couple next to them bump into him. "What did you say?"

"Does it surprise you that much?" She looks deeper into his eyes, and he could see the realization blossoming on her face "You don't have a hint of starfire…"

"What?"

* * *

The car is a smooth ride. Which is bad, considering it allows Cornelius's thoughts to wander. To keep remembering that day, that one conversation between Snake and himself. Had it already been that long since he decided to join their group?

After his abduction, he had found himself tied to a chair. His head groggy, his mouth seemed to be filled with cotton.

"Hey sleepy-head!" Snake spun the chair around before sitting down.

"So are you going to tell me why I'm here?"

"Yes. I would think this was the great reveal you've been waiting for!"

Cornelius doesn't speak. Merely glowered. Well, hopefully he was glowering.

"A history lesson for you, Doctor. Or maybe we should consider it spoilers." She looked at him with her one good eye, placing her finger to her lips.

"The year was 2044. Not too long from your own time. A new disease had been slowly gathering momentum. A few bodies here and there. An odd sort of disease. No bacteria was ever isolated. No virus either. No fever or immune response. Just a gradual weakness until patients never woke up."

"Asthenia…" Cornelius whispers.

"Yes, that. Half the world's population basically went to sleep and was wiped out in less than five years. Then 2050, when the cure appears. Serendipitous. Miraculous. It was named the R7, after it's inventor of course. You may already guess, who that was." She looks at him and smiles. "Not only the father of the future, but now the savior of humanity. You truly are a great man and have my utmost respect."

"Then I haven't done anything wrong," he said.

"No…you didn't do anything wrong. Let me finish, and you will understand. It was the cure. The biggest secret of Robinson Industries. No other corporation was ever able to recreate it...you should see the profit margin on this thing. But as you know, there is never a perfect drug... and after four years time, they found out that there was a _small_ side effect."

"What side effect?"

"Starfire," Snake says, pointing to her eye. "It shines through their irises like tiger's eyes in the night."

"They?" Cornelius interrupts, though Snake doesn't seem to hear him.

"Abilities, doctor. Things that you could only dream about now become a reality for us. Telepathy! Teleportation! Telekinesis! Et cetera, et cetera down the list of super powered t's!"

"And one other side effect…the prolongation of life itself. Perpetual youth even!"

"Doctor, the things that we have achieved with two hundred…no three hundred years of life… The population of the earth skyrocketed. Many left to start anew on other worlds. Many more than was ever done. Outside our own galaxy. Oh, doctor! If you could have only seen it. A golden age of mankind. Prosperity that spans light years in every direction of space…"

* * *

Cassandra leads him by the arm, walking a little too briskly. Her dark hair flying into his face, her citric perfume tickling his nose.

"Where are we going?" Wilbur whispers, his heart racing. Expectant.

"Someplace special." She giggles. That sound starts to become music to his ears. She leads him through glass doors and red curtains. There was less light in the room, the only source coming from the ceiling, atop a gigantic statue. A man, with his face to the sky. A halo behind his head reminded him of saintly statues.

"Who's that?"

"You're really not from around here are you?" She smiles. "Wilson, this is the statue of the very first emperor. The Golden Emperor. which united all the nations of the Earth under his rule."

"He sounds very…important."

"Under his leadership, humanity rose to greatness. Technologies that hadn't been seen since the Fall and the War. He ruled for a hundred years of peace...before disappearing."

"A hundred?" His mouth hangs open.

"And it was foretold that he will one day return." She looks at him again. Her fingers stroking his jaw.

"Like King Arthur?"

"Just like."

"And who was the prophet?" Wilbur asks.

"…Me."

* * *

"If only I had seen it as well," Snake had stated sadly.

"What do you mean?"

"Some of the surviving humans were found to be immune to the disease…and we later found out were immune to the effects of the cure. I'm one of them. Just a regular human…with a regular, measly lifespan. But I don't have regrets about not being blessed with starfire," she added. "It would've been nice to be special…but que sera, sera, as they say!"

"I see a connection. But I still don't understand how this has to do anything with me."

"Then we have to fast forward. You're pretty smart doctor, so you have to know that it wouldn't have been long until fighting broke out…'cause as we all know," she said to no one in particular, "that the thing humans fear the most is another human being who is different than they are…"

Silence fell on Cornelius.

"They discriminated against us…we discriminated against them. Hate crimes grew to such proportions that only war was inevitable." She looked away from him, ashamed. "Not the proudest moment in human history, I can tell you that."

"Then, do you blame me for it?" Cornelius asked. She didn't answer.

"My planet was at peace then. The beautiful Alya-Nelaihah. A great center of learning across three galaxies." Her face seemed to light up as she reminisced. It softened the lines of her face. "I was just a little girl then. My mother and father were professors at the University of Sao Paolo. It was renowned for its aeronautics program. Did you know it specialized in the space bending technology that you made possible, Doctor?"

"Doctor…do you love your family?" She interrupted her train of thought suddenly.

"Yes. Without a doubt."

She leaned back on her chair again and stared up at the ceiling. "I loved mine too."

"So where were we? Oh yes. Well, I thought war would never touch our lives, you see. It broke out in other worlds, but not here, I thought. My father said we were too civilized for such things…I was so naïve back then. I learned then that nothing good ever comes from believing in the best of other human beings."

"I'm sorry…" Cornelius said.

"No, no. I don't hold you responsible. It was just a matter of time until war came to our shores…figuratively speaking of course."

"They fought in our cities. Martial Law was enacted and citizens were not allowed to be out in the streets. I still remember that day…my parents leaving for work…"

"And then…it happened." She stopped, her eyes in a daze. Snake was somewhere else now.

"What? Tell me what happens."

"A star falls…" She visibly shook as her attention focuses again at him. "Well that is how I saw it…outside the window of my school."

"My city…was destroyed by the force of three atomic bombs." Her tears had begun to flow. "And I saw it all. A white light dropping from the sky and a flash so bright that it would have turned night into day."

"We all found out later on that similar events happened on other worlds where war was occurring. Fighting stopped almost instantly and peace came once again…but at a price. For me, my family...My home. Where are they now but dust."

She stood up and paced across the room. Cornelius could see her hands shaking in agitation. "The Sol system! Yes, it was them. They had dropped the stars. That disgusting government and that emperor of theirs! They took my family from me! I couldn't forgive them, no! Not now! Not ever!"

Snake took a small bottle from her pocket and opened the cap. She placed a tablet in her mouth and swallowed. Her tremors subsided in a few moments, her labored breathing slowed. "Sorry…that must have been unsightly. I apologize."

"No…I understand. If my family had died, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"Not with me, Doctor. I grew up. Became an outstanding member of my community…what was left of it anyway. But I schemed, I researched. It was the one thing I found I was good at. I wanted to know who was responsible. Who was to blame…I needed someone who I could hate! It took me some time, years of research actually, but I finally found out that what they had dropped on us wasn't any sort of bomb…no…it was the attack of a single person…a very powerful one."

In a whisper, she said, "You know him quite well, Doctor. He has been beside you this whole time."

"You're talking about Cereus? It can't be…he's not someone who would do something-"

"Is that the name he goes by now?" She laughs out loud, but even with her eyes closed, the tears keep falling. "We had other names for him…Shaitan…The Evil One…you can have your pick of them. But our favorite was Luxiferre…the bringer of destructive light. Catchy, eh?"

"No. It can't be. I've talked to him. Been with him this whole time. He tried to save me…" Why had Cereus saved him?

"But here comes the good part, doctor." She came over to him, her lips by his ear. "You've known him for far longer than you could possibly imagine…"

"How?"

"You've probably already forgotten, Doctor, that those with the starfire have lives that far outstrip us mere mortals…he may look like a young man to you...but it's merely deception."

The reason that they had tried to kidnap him, the reason why he was still alive…the reason why Cereus had killed that man in the corporate office…to Cornelius all these pieces of the puzzle click into place. He saw the picture now, the strings of fate which bound him from that first day in his lab when he knew he was going to die...

"I can see by your face that you've already figured it out. The Luxiferre…the fallen star… the very first person who ever received the Robinson 7 cure. The only one to be personally given the cure by the great Cornelius Robinson himself!"

"…No…No it can't be! You're lying!" But it all made sense. He just could not believe it.

"And that is why I haven't killed you doctor. Because I can understand that when someone you love is dying in front of you, you would do anything in your power to save them. I do not blame you for the aftermath of your decision."

"No…it's not true. It just can't be…he would never do that! My son would never kill anyone!" He had screamed.

She smiled at him, the hard lines returned. "But as for you, my good doctor. As to why you are here…you are what we, in the industry, call bait."


	15. Chapter 15

Author's note:

Hey guys. Sorry for the late update (very late update). I just graduated and came back from vacation. I wouldn't be able to apologize enough times to make it up to you, so I won't try.

* * *

Chapter 15: A Son's Love

The sound of music wafts in the night air. Peals of laughter echo in the distance. Violins. A harp. The low hum of a cello. And the scent of the night blooming flowers floating through the colonnades. All Wilbur's senses tingle with the experience, savoring every moment, hoping to remember this night for the rest of his life.

Cassandra looks at him with those glittering eyes. So unnerving in that they seem to look past him, past flesh and bone. Past time and space…

"Wilbur…" Cassandra talks softer. Closer and closer until he feels the breath on his cheek. "I'm scared."

"Why? Is something wrong."

"I feel it…the eyes…"

"Is there someone here?" He looks through the row of columns. Other than the gigantic statue, no one else is present.

"No. At the sky." She hugs him tightly now. "The eyes in the Scar, constantly watching us."

Wilbur looks up. The Scar, pulsing in the dark sky. His gaze on it, a feeling of dread arises. The moon and the stars are present. But then, so horribly there, like a bleeding wound, is the familiar gash of colors he had seen before.

"Wilbur. I see the end coming from that. It is approaching quickly…and soon. So certain is this that it clouds my visions." She lets him go. "But know that you will feel despair. Soon, I think. I hear them crying out his name."

"Who's name?"

"Cereus. I do not see the outcome, but I hear many voices...screaming. Louder and louder now."

Before she turns to leave, Cassandra plants a kiss on his cheek. "Farewell. Be brave, my young hero. And may the spirit of the Golden Emperor protect and guide you."

"Will I ever see you again, Cassandra?"

"I believe this is as far as we'll go."

Her image fades into the shadows as she walks away without a backward glance.

* * *

Wilbur is dazed as he enters the ballroom. That kiss. Cassandra. The lingering scent of her perfume. These thoughts turn in his head, giving him butterflies in his stomach. A tinge of regret.

But he is so dazed in fact, it takes a while for him to notice the silence. No laughter. No music. Just the heavy atmosphere of whispers.

"Wilbur!" That voice!

"Dad!" Wilbur doesn't think as he runs toward Cornelius. "Dad! You're safe!"

A quick blur materializes in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Wilson! What are you doing?" It is Gentian's voice.

"That's my dad!"

"He's with the enemy!"

"I know he is!" Wilbur exclaims.

"No! He's working _for_ them!"

Wilbur doesn't believe what he sees. His father stands there, behind the line enemy power-users. His usually pristine, white coat is torn in places. Specks of mud and grime everywhere. His father always tried to be as sterile as possible. Seeing him like this sends a strange pang of regret in his heart.

Valerian walks to the fore to ask, "How were you able to enter the palace?"

The woman with the eye patch comes forward and ignores the question. "My, what a lovely party you have here ! We seemed to have lost our invitations. Hope you don't mind."

Valerian: "Guards! Come and protect your Emperor! Arrest these trespassers!"

Men in uniform circle around them, starfire blazing in their eyes.

"Put your hands up! Drop your weapons!" The captain exclaims.

"Doctor Robinson," she turns to Cornelius. "What is the range on your little toy?"

"Approximately ten feet," Cornelius answers.

"A shame," Snake states as she looks at Cereus.

"I said, 'Put your hands up!'" The captain repeats.

"All you had to do was say 'please,' darling." She raises her hands in the air. A blinking light glows in her left hand.

Valerian: "What is that?"

"Drop it!" The captain exclaims.

"No can do, darling. But, I'll be glad to show you what it does."

Antares: "Valerian! Barrier up! Now!"

A flash of green light. The captain falls to his knees. A few lady courtiers scream, then a moment of silence as the captain stands up, seemingly unharmed.

"Doctor. Are you sure this works?"

The captain roars as he throws his energy at them...but nothing happens. The captain tries one more time. No explosion ensues. Just a man standing in the middle of a ballroom, in a strange pose.

"I do believe it works," Cornelius answers.

"My starfire! It's gone!" The captain yells, his eyes without a hint of light. But then, his face takes on a look of horror as his skin begins to wrinkle, to sag. His hair suddenly recedes and turns gray. He stoops over and falls to the ground. An ancient man replaces him. He groans in pain.

Taken aback, a few more guards are caught by surprise and begin to age as well. One of them even turns to dust before their eyes. A tide of courtiers rush out in a panic, screams resounding against the marble walls.

"Ingenious, isn't it?" Snake doesn't bat an eye as waves of power slam against the shield around her. "And now that you know I mean my business, I want you to hand over the Luxiferre to me. If not, some of you gentlemen and ladies will be growing up faster than you expect."

Cereus signals the guards to stop their attack. He walks forward, unafraid, as all eyes focus on him. "And tell me. Will you give the doctor in exchange?"

Snake tosses her hair to the side, and says, "What do you want, Doctor?"

"Cereus... I know everything," Cornelius says.

"Do you now?"

"Yes. Please give yourself up."

"...As you wish...Doctor Robinson." The air in the room seems to darken as he speaks. Wilbur notices that his father is visibly upset.

The scuffling sound of feet on the floor is heard, and Gentian again appears in front to block his path.

"Stand back, Gentian," Cereus orders. "If that ray hits you, you will definitely age to dust."

"No! I will not comply! This is a trap and I won't let them have you!"

Cereus's angry face softens for a moment. "It's okay, Gent. I won't go down without a fight."

"Brother!" His voice catches as the emperor's arms encircle him, holding him tight against the man's wide chest. "My Lord, why?"

The Serene Emperor doesn't answer.

"Keep him safe, Soren." Cereus walks forward, past the Emperor and his brother. Wilbur catches the menacing look on his face. Starfire light seems to flood out of his eyes.

"So you used _him_ against me. How cliche," Cereus states to the woman in front of him.

"It was the only way I could think to win against scum like yourself: the renowned Luxiferre..." Her words are cut short by the sudden pressure blowing from the Emperor's direction.

"Say another filthy word, and I will cut out your tongue," Soren says.

The boy in the emperor's arms stops struggling and shakes in fear. He isn't the only one. The few courtiers and Night agents that remain are caught by surprise at seeing the one known as The Serene, so angered to the point of baring his teeth.

"Peace," Cereus says, and the growing pressure quickly abates. Cereus turns to address Snake. "You know, out of the many names I've been called, that would be...the second on the list of names I hate."

Snake points the machine at him now. "This is no laughing matter! You will die here and pay for your crimes!"

"And tell me, young lady. Which crimes, out of the hundreds of atrocities I've supposedly committed, are you accusing me of?" Cereus asks. Wilbur hears his father stifle a cry, biting his lip as if to draw blood. "What is going on?" he thinks.

"I will find justice, here and now, for the the devastation on Alya-Nelaihah!"

Silence follows as all eyes look again towards the brooding Night agent.

"I see," he whispers after a few seconds of thought. His cavalier expression shockingly absent now.

"So it is true! You did do something so horrible." Cornelius's voice breaks through.

"Horrible? It is all perspective. Nothing more and nothing less," Cereus says.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this! What have you become?"

"Can somebody please tell me, what the hell is going on?" Wilbur interrupts.

"I do not have to explain myself to you! A man who I have not seen in countless lifetimes!" Cereus looks directly at the scientist. "Who started this mess in the first place? If you had just let me die, all this sorrow...all this suffering would not have started!"

Cornelius closes his eyes. "Yes...you're right. I shouldn't have saved you. That was a mistake..."

And Wilbur notices that Cereus's face grows colder. But not really since he recognizes that look. He had done it too sometimes. He had the gnawing suspicion that Cereus is now painfully on the verge of tears.

"Since you are after my life, I sincerely hope that you don't mind if I try to defend myself." Cereus straightens his back, his eyes still downcast and hidden in his forest of hair.

"Bring it, scum!" Snake charges the machine with a quick push of a button. The other ability-users behind her ready themselves for a fight.

The Night Blooming Flowers gather around Cereus in turn.

Antares: "Well. This is bothersome."

Valerian: "Anything involving our dear friend, Cereus, usually is."

Allysum: "..."

Cereus smiles. Again, a gentle smile. "Sorry everyone. But this is where we part. This is my battle to fight. My mess to clean up."

"What do you mean? Aren't you always telling us to stick together? So we're sticking together now (Valerian: Do we have to?), especially in your time of need," Antares says. Allysum nods once as Valerian sighs in defeat.

"Everyone...thank you so much." And with that, the Night agents are thrown backwards by the force of Cereus's will. "It was a wonderful thing... to have you as my friends."

"Brother! What are you doing?" Gentian screams as Night agents fall from the air and crumple to the ground behind him.

"Soren...it is time."

"Are you sure?" Cereus nods, and the Emperor loosens his hold on Gentian.

"Go to the others. They need you right now," Soren whispers. Gentian does not move as Soren walks to Cereus's side.

"Old friend...our time too is coming to an end," Cereus states as he pulls on the Emperor's beard. Gentian would have laughed if the circumstances weren't so surreal. "And you used to be such a cute little lad. My you've grown. Time does pass so quickly."

"My lord." A universal breath is held in the room as Soren kneels to the floor. "May you always continue to be worthy of praise, Noble One."

"That...is the name I always hated the most." Cereus turns, towards Cornelius, towards Snake and her companions, and a final smile towards Wilbur. "Release the seal, Abraxas Soren Val'Zion."

The Emperor's eyes briefly burn with starfire, and the hall of the Night Blooming Flowers shakes under the energy now flowing freely from Cereus's body. It is no longer a gentle light coming from him now but a fierce aura flooding the room in what seems like oil. It reaches all of those present and seeps into their bones. So much energy that a few unknowing courtiers disappear as their molecules separate entirely. The rest howl in pain, clutching themselves as if their bodies were slowly ripping apart. To Wilbur, the world becomes complete suffering. And as his body doesn't seem to be able to handle much more, it becomes merciful blackness.

* * *

Wilbur awakens to intense nausea, followed by intense vomiting. Unimaginable pain courses through him. Every inch of his body screaming. His blood is fire.

"Wilbur!" His father is also on the floor beside him, coughing up the contents of his stomach. He could barely see the man through the tears in his eyes. God, it hurts!

"I got you." His father's arms embrace him, and though the boy is currently retching uncomfortably, he can not contain the happiness welling up inside him.

Wilbur looks in front and doesn't even recognize Cereus anymore, with his eyes completely golden, wind raging all around them and it takes a few moments to see that the hall has been completely demolished by his unsealing. And the sky...the scar, why did it look so much bigger?

But then, Wilbur notices the person walking slowly towards them. The slow, shuffling gait. The eyes. The golden mask.

"Oh, God." He shuts his eyes. "Please be a dream! Please be a dream!"

He opens them, and still, the figure has not vanished. The figure of the man who had pushed him into the sea of colors. The masked man of the void.

* * *

"Dammit! Dammit!" Snake screams as she gets on her feet. "Damn you! Why?"

All her anger thrown at the golden form floating in the air before them. She fires the machine at him, the ray of light curving around and landing behind him.

A bolt of lightning flies across the room and explodes in front of Cereus. One of Snake's power-users had gathered the energy in his hands to attack. The ensuing cloud of dust obscures their view.

"Snake, calm down!" The man continues to throw lightning bolts into the cloud. "And for the love o' God, Georgie, keep up this shield! Slip up and we'll all be dust in a second."

"Will do Bends!" said the female power-user holding her hands up, the air shimmering around them. The pained look on her face belies the immense power she is fighting against.

"Snake, we have ta fall back!" Bends tugs at her arm. "We'll be killed! This amount of power wasn't in the data!"

A ball of light explodes on to the shield, and the rest of Bends words are drowned by Georgie's screams. "I can't hold it for much longer!"

"Wonderful!"

Snake, Bends, Cornelius, and Wilbur. All turn towards the unknown voice. A man with a golden mask, the face that of ecstatic joy.

"Mask?" Snake asks.

"Incredible! It's been so long since I beheld such majesty.!" The smoke clears, and Cereus remains floating in mid-air, seemingly unscathed. His whole body is now radiating a golden aura. "Such noble beauty!"

"Did you know this was going to happen?" And the look of that mask only seems to acknowledge Snake's suspicions. "You bastard!"

He does nothing but untie the red ribbon around his head, letting the mask fall to the floor.

"That is so much...better!" Mask laughs. He looks to be a man in his early twenties, baby-faced still. Starfire in his eyes. His hair silver.

"Do you recognize me?" Mask asks the floating figure before him. "Do you recognize me?"

Cereus keeps silent but his eyes stare deeply at him.

"Is there even any part of you still human in there?"

Cereus: "..."

"Hmm, I guess not." And he launches himself into the air, past the protection of the shield. "Let's dance!"

This Mask is the one Snake had been afraid of. His face is contorted into a parody of a smile which is pasted across his face. His eyes crazed by the battle ahead of him. And the realization slowly sets in.

"I've been used..."

* * *

**Cereus  
**

"Do you recognize me?"

_What is "you" and "me" but mere separation of starlight.  
_

"Do you recognize me?"

_Yes... I know you._

"Is there even any part of you still human in there?"

_No._

"I guess not..."

_Sadness...why are you so sad?_

And the child flies into the air, laughing as he releases his energy into his hands.

"Let's dance!"

_Please tell me, child. What is this emotion that you are feeling? What causes you such sadness?_

Cereus feels energy smash into him. Not as pain. More like a push or a lover's stroking hand.

"You truly are magnificent!"

_Child. Why do you want me to kill you?_

The child known as Mask extends his energy further, honing it like a blade in his hand. He swings, and to Cereus, it is like the batting of a fly's wings: so infinitely slow.

Cereus forces it away. Mask circles around, slashing his sword from the other side. Cereus wills it away with the energy from his other hand. This child truly was beautiful in Cereus's eyes. Arching into a kick. Is blocked. Sword extends towards his face. Is dodged. Spin to kick at his midsection. Cereus oversteps him with lightning speed and ends behind Mask.

"The stories were true. Such power!"

_Please do not do this..._

And Mask slips his way through that second of hesitation, the sword piercing into Cereus's shoulder. The momentary sensation of pain surprises him, and he brushes the child off with a slight wave of his hand.

Mask screams as he flies backwards into the air, his left arm traveling in the opposite direction in an arching spray of blood.

_What is this you are feeling?__ Sorrow?_

"You really are a monster." Mask's smile grows wider, blood pouring from the stump that is now his arm.

Cereus points a finger at him, and Mask quickly defends himself against a tidal wave of energy crashing against his barrier. Mask disappears. Reappears with sword swinging directly for Cereus's throat.

_So infinitely slow_.

* * *

All Wilbur can do is watch the battle unfold.

"Brother!" Gentian yells from across the room. He lay underneath the barrier created by the three other Night agents. "Brother, please stop this!"

"Gentian!" Wilbur exclaims. "What's happened? Why can't he hear us?"

The earth shakes again.

"Georgie. Can you hold up much longer?" Bends asks.

"I'm almost outta energy!"

"Can you at least move us over there?" Bends points towards the shield of the Night agents.

"I'll try."

And when it's done, Georgie collapses into Bends's arms. "Good job, Georgie. You deserve the rest."

"Now, can someone please tell me, what's going on?" Cornelius asks, though from the look of it, the four Night agents haven't a clue.

"I think I might be able to." The Emperor sits up from his position on the floor. Wilbur had mistaken it for a pile of rubble.

"Soren!" Wilbur rushes to his side and winces at the blood on the man's clothes. So much blood. "Your Highness. You're hurt."

"Nothing a little vodka won't cure." He laughs and coughs up blood in the process.

"Don't speak Your Majesty. Conserve your strength. You'll be just fine," Gentian whispers though the other agents keep silent, their faces grim.

"Hahaha! You were always such a bad liar." He ruffles his hand through the boy's hair. "I knew this day would come. When I signed up for it, I didn't know it would take so goddam long. Hahaha!"

Soren coughs up another batch of blood. "You probably have so many questions, but even I have little of the answers."

The lady with the snake eye patch walks to stand over him and points her ray gun at Soren. "You monster!"

"Snake! Don't!" Bends looks nervously at the Night agents surrounding him.

"Ah. The beautiful lady from Alya-Nelaihah. I would kiss your hand in greeting if I wasn't so...sticky at the moment." He smiles. "But at least put that away, my lady. It's already too late."

"How? How could you order such a thing? My home! My family! My friends! They died because of you." Snake charges the weapon in her hand.

"Yes. It was a shame. That world was so beautiful...but I did not order any attack."

"You sent him! The Luxiferre! One of your disgusting Night Blooming agents!"

Valerian: "Hey! I resent that!"

"I sent no one," Soren answers, his eyes slowly closing.

"Your Majesty. Please stay awake!" Gentian shakes him.

"You lie!" Snake screams.

"I do not lie. The one you call Cereus. Luxiferre. He is not one of my Night agents, and though emperor I am, I can not order one who is not in my command."

"What do you mean?" Gentian asks, surprised. "Of course, he is."

Allysum finally breaks his silence (to the amazement of all). "Your Majesty. We do not understand. Before, why did you bow to him? Who is he?"

Soren takes a second to think and breathe.

"I have known Cereus for a long time. So long, I've lost count of the years."

"And he was always gentle. Always kind."

"Those days of peace would have lasted forever, if _she _hadn't died...murdered."

"Who?" Cornelius asked.

"The beautiful Sahar. Such a lovely girl."

"Yes. She was our mother," Gentian states. "When she died, brother was hit the hardest."

"Mother! Hahaha! What a prankster that Cereus is." Soren stops in a fit of coughing. "Sahar was his wife."

Gentian stops breathing. "No, you're wrong, Your Majesty...it can't be."

Soren continues, "Sahar. So lovely. But so human. I knew their love wouldn't last. But to have it end like that...It was a sad fate."

Antares: "But your highness, that doesn't explain why you called him 'Lord.'"

"...Cereus was the one, who so long ago, plucked me from the streets." Soren's words become softer and softer. "Me...a slum-dog child...without ambition...without a future...caught the eye of the Golden Emperor himself..."

"He gave me everything I needed and more...gave me his powers...his throne...raised me as his own..."

"...loved him so much...that when asked to return the gift of immortality...I agreed...even though I knew...it meant my death."

"For what child...does not love...his father so..." Soren's breathing finally stops, and he lay quiet. A smile on his lips.

* * *

Note:

So that's chapter 15. I'm going to try to finish the whole story by the next chapter (Cross your bloody fingers!). This chapter really took forever. I also wanted to thank you for your book suggestions. Please keep them coming. I still have room for my 50 books resolution and another 4 months to go to fulfill it. Right now, reading Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain by David Eagleman. Very interesting non-fiction work especially if you're interested in the science concerning the mind and perception. Check it out.

And for readers who have tastes as eclectic as mine, hopefully you saw throughout the 15 chapters various references to other works as well (books, manga, etc) and hope you were tickled by it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Note: **I was debating whether to post this or not, but it seems I already got to 5000 words so I might as well.

* * *

**Chapter 16: ****My Name is Cereus**

Pulsing. Beating. I can hear the Earth spinning on its axis, hurtling through silent space at tremendous speeds. I hear the flowers blooming. And no, not just now. Every flower, of every age. All at once. Their petals are a thousand wings beating.

And I do so, dear reader, as I bombard this child in front of me with the force of my will. No. Excuse me. This isn't a child. I can see him in front of me now. As he is now. Mask. The one who set this domino effect into motion. And I also see him as he was back then. A boy, sad and alone.

It has been forever since I felt like this. As if my presence could pervade the whole of eternity. To me, time is the illusion. Merely a veil that can be pierced through. For these eyes see through the walls of time. Dear Reader. I also see you. Sitting. Laying on your bed. Your eyes glued to my words.

Rejoice! For these are holy words! From the thoughts of a god!

Yes. I am a living god. Existing for a thousand years. Born of tragedy. Born of pain.

So I ask again.

_Child. Why do you wish for me to kill you? Why do you feel sorrow? _

For though I may be a god, I cannot pierce the veil of the human heart.

_Why do you cry, Mask? _

Mask. Gentian. One and the same. Yet not. One the caterpillar. The other, butterfly.

**_(Oh, my dear Gentian. Why did you do such a thing? Why did you grow to be so sad?)_**

All these thoughts running in my mind. Human thoughts. They no longer encompass me. The thing I feared, the reason I have not taken this form in so long. I am something alien. Becoming less and less human. The ties of friendship are unraveling.

_(**I must control this! Or people will be hurt!**)_

Again human thoughts intrude. A few more moments, and I will completely dissociate. And I will kill my son, this child in front of me, without a second thought. I see it come to pass. It is inevitable.

Human thoughts wander in. From the beginning to the present. And I know, dear Reader, that you will need the accounting. Let me illuminat on the thousand years that have kept from you.

So, let me take you away from this broken future: where all you will hear is the sound of my power ripping this castle to shreds. And the sound of my name being called by my brother…have I TRULY lied about myself for so long…no. Not my brother. My son. And my vision takes me to Sahar. And to my father. Yes. My son is more like them.

* * *

I see Sahar, looking into the sky. And at the same time. I see my father all those years ago. In my godly mind, they still exist. Death has no meaning for me.

I see my father run towards me. His face horrified. I have been infected with an unknown disease. My mortal body was failing. I remember the effort of breathing. I was attending the university back then. Kathy. Ah, Kathy. She was expecting me for our date. I did have such bad luck.

My family worried at my deteriorating condition. Then the news of pandemic. Many people started dying.

Many days went where I passed between consciousness and sleep. Now though, far into the future, I see my father exhausting himself to find a solution. Nothing worked. Not until he used his own blood. The blood of a preordained being. One loved by time itself. The cure worked, and we all thought that was that.

So when my hair began to glow one day, and the pressure on my chest would not abate, I knew that was it. It's all so clear. It was November, 06:07:36 pm. We were all seated at the table having dinner. Laughing, feeling happiness that the deadly pandemic was no more. Then it happened. Their, once again, worried faces looked at me. That was the last time I ever saw them.

Everyone disappeared into a flash of bright light. To my eyes, all so slowly. Vaporization and dissociation of the elemental particles can be interesting, if seen objectively.

(**Oh God! I killed our entire family. Oh God! I don't want to remember this! Please stop this!**)

How many years of war followed? Many. I walked a devastated Earth and grew cynical of mankind. A few power users surfaced at first, and we were all used. Nation fought against nation with devastating effects that mankind had never seen before. I had hoped we few would just die out. But no. Our numbers kept growing. And every day, I wished for death. A death that never came. First, one hundred years. Then another one hundred. Then the first power-users died of old age. I remained. The methuselah of the homo sapien.

* * *

Living as I have, I find only a few constants: hopelessness, war, and pain. And human cruelty.

So when the time came, when my powers had grown significant, when noone could defeat me, I lead the rebellion against humanity. Even their atomics could not harm me.

* * *

And my mind wanders back to the present. Where this willful child has broken off my hold. And with only one arm left, leaps again to attack me.

Then, for a split second, I see the future. Where the Scar is all.

(**No!**)

I won't think of that. The wars…yes. Back to that.

* * *

I defeated mankind. I can still hear my compatriots chanting. "Kill the humans! Kill all of them!"

How absolutely dreadful. I did no such thing. So what else was new? The power-users then tried to kill me. Out of fear. Maybe out of a sense of betrayal. That was not my intent.

I still remember the young men and women who flung themselves at me. Like Gentian here. No, not Gentian. Mask. I must keep that straight. All of them gone too in a flash of light. The power of my thoughts vaporizing them like I did to my own family.

Then years went by. Many. So many that the wars became history. The world descended into a dark age. The Wars and the Fall, they called it. And I wandered the Earth, distrustful of both men and power-users.

Did I talk about Frederick yet? Ah no. Just another man, of no importance in the grand scheme. But he was important to me. He was the first one. Kneeling to the floor until his forehead touched the ground. A mere human begging for me to save him and all his weak ilk.

And what was I but bored out of my mind from years of nothingness. So I agreed. They gathered. First humans. Then over the years, power users. I sat down on the ground and a city was built around me. They gave me a chair. It seemed ornate. Made of gold. Studded with jewels. I moved to sit on that. They built a palace over me. Frederick left…died is the more correct term. His sons and grandsons replaced him. I could never remember their names.

In the present, my eyes wander to the figure of my father, sitting over my younger self. Cornelius looks back at me. My heart floods with guilt…no. Nothing more than neurotransmitters and electric impulses.

* * *

Where was I? The past or the even more hopeless future?

Ah yes. They called me the Noble One. I forgot when they started calling me that. But I looked at them, and they looked back at me, always with fear. Of course, some were incredulous of my power and disagreed with my rule. I don't understand why because I did not rule. I sat on a chair and did not speak for decades. But I killed them. All in self- defense. But they died, all the same.

It was then I saw him. A little boy. It was on one of those stupid processions they had of me. I was carried on a dais and paraded over the city. He fell into the street, right in front of me. Was almost trampled. Makes my orbicularis oculi twitch just thinking of it. That boy, a man now, told me later on, that he had done so to get a better look at me.

The boy. I looked at him and saw the path of the future. It was so strong. This boy was preordained just like my father. How sad.

I came down from my seat, extended my hand, and through the silence that had fallen, said, "Come with me."

That boy's smiling face. Throughout the centuries. Gone now because of what I did. What I had done to save myself and everything in this world. Such a small price.

(**Soren! Oh Soren! I'm so sorry! What have I done?**)

No more of that shall we.

I raised Soren. First just keeping him close by which led to rumors of pederasty on my part. Again laughable. I did not move or speak. Usually for hours at a time. Speaking took far longer. But Soren was incessant. Always speaking. Something on his mind or something which caught his attention, then a barrage of words would fly out his tiny mouth.

I was intrigued. Then I began to talk back.

Then I began to love him. I made him my son, my heir.

A memory. He was a boy no longer. Still a child, but no longer that starry eyed boy. Humans grow old so quickly.

"Noble One. I'm joining the military," he said softly, afraid of my reaction.

_Why?_

"I wish to see the worlds. Do some good. All while serving you, Noble One."

_I forbid you from doing this._

If there is one thing I learned, teenagers do not like to be told what to do. It escalated. Him screaming. I, sitting passively without words.

"I hate you!" And he ran off.

My time vision wanders back to when I said those same words myself. And then to the face my father made when he heard me say it to him. I think I was making that same face then.

My throne mysteriously disintegrated under me. Stained glass windows mysteriously blew apart. For some time, everyone was fearful. I don't know why anymore.

* * *

Time runs slowly for me. For humans such as yourself, reader, it is a mighty river, quickly taking you to your death. For me, it has become a still pool. And the question is: will I ever die? The thought of both death and immortality fills me with…fear, I think.

A short time later, I saw that boy again. His face had changed. It must have been more time than I felt. More masculine. More rugged. More scarred. His eyes no longer shone. He was wearing his uniform, which fit well onto his bigger frame.

_Have you seen the world as I have? Have you had enough of it as I've had?_

I felt vindictive. A human failing falling through the cracks.

He did not speak. Looked sadder with his jaw set. I relented.

_Have you seen enough of the cruelties of men? Have you learned of your own?_

Soren nodded, came forward and embraced me. He had grown taller than me.

* * *

And then my vision travels to the Soren of the present laying on the ground, bleeding. Dead. The crown still on his head. That crown.

I knew I was starting to grow less human over the years. No longer did love or hate touch me. So I made a mistake. It was during the Great Civil War. Many worlds rebelled against my "rule". They knew I would not lift a hand to do a thing about it. This time, they were wrong.

I remember the starships in the sky, bombarding the tower's defenses. And with the movement of one hand, I unleashed my power. A line of pure light crossed the heavens. Silence, and then an inconceivable roar as all the starships fell from the sky as a fireball.

Just as the starship Eos had. Ah, sorry. My memories are somewhat scrambled. That will come later.

My decision was not without consequence. The Scar was born. And everyday, I am reminded of my fingers cutting through space and time. And that I am the cause of the end…and also of this tragedy's beginning.

After some thought, I knew what I had to do.

_Soren. _He knelt to the ground. My son was no longer a child by the time I stopped deliberating. _I give you my crown. _

Everyone whispered in the hall. He is not a power user they said. All too loudly. Soren looked up with the same confused look of my courtiers, governors, and officials. The whole bureaucratic hierarchy seemed to be there that day.

"My Lord. Not to question your actions disrespectfully, but why are you doing this?"

_For a man that is to rule, he must feel. Something. Anything. Especially love. To love one's subjects. Even his son. Something of which I am no longer able to do. But he also must have power. Something of which I will no longer have after this._

The light again. Shining. I wanted to be disintegrated in that light, but my recklessness caused The Scar and had sealed my fate. And Soren's too. With some of my powers I kept the Scar from growing any further. I transferred the rest to my heir, who from that day on, ceased to age. Yet, he still looked older than me by twenty years or so.

And I felt for the first time in a long time. First love. Then relief that I no longer saw the paths of time. Then hate. Then guilt. I walked away from all that. Just stood up and left. Something I had not done since Frederick. They all bowed to me as they made way. Did they know I was powerless? They had no more reason to adore me. To fear me.

In any case, what an ungodly thing to do, isn't that right, dear reader? But I was no longer that. It must have seemed comical back then. I fled from everything. Traveled for hundreds of years, but what I wanted most was still far from my grasp. I was still not aging. Not dying. The Scar had a hold on me. Many years I looked back on that time and debated whether my leaving had been a mistake. It doesn't matter now. Such a problem is trivial in the over-reaching arch of time.

Humans must have it so lucky. Such a small finite point of existence. Like the mayfly that only lives for a day. How must they see the world? A being that only experiences the sunset once, but how beautiful that sunset must be in their eyes. Each face, each name, whether friend or foe, is held closely to their hearts. While I, on the other hand, what did I have to show? Names and faces that blur together into nothing. Forgotten. How many sunsets have I seen? Eternity had eroded what beauty I saw in the universe.

* * *

So how did I end up at her house? I must have grown hungry. I hadn't felt hunger in years. Did not know what it meant for some time.

She reminded me of Kathy with those green eyes. So many centuries and it's always the first love you will always remember. What did happen to Kathy? My vision time shows me she was afflicted with the same sickness as me. She wasn't as lucky. Or maybe she was the fortunate one.

I fell in love. After so many years. I was basically acting like a little boy. So inept. Maybe my awkwardness is what attracted her to me. My God, was it still even in fashion to buy flowers for a date? The answer, regrettably, was no. She only looked confused.

I took a job in a nearby city. My first job in almost a thousand years. Again I was inept. I have a way of doing the wrong things at the wrong time.

But though I tried to find a normal life, that glaring fact was always present. She aged and I did not. I was forthcoming about being a power user (thankfully, this world was tolerant of that) but not about my identity. By then, memory of the Golden Emperor had disappeared. Stuff of legends. No need to reclaim that history of mistakes.

A son was born. Andrew Cornelius. Again, I wish to say, ineptly conceived. He even had the golden spike of hair. He aged too and I did not. I truly would not know if he would turn into a power user like me. Something to do with puberty and adulthood. Maybe hormonal changes and stress. I don't know.

I felt nothing like a father because of that one fact. So in my moment of weakness, I left. It was too painful, watching their mortal lives. I was full of jealousy and sadness of their fate.

When war broke again between the worlds, I could do nothing this time. What little power I had was surprisingly growing back, albeit slowly. I stayed hidden on one of the more peaceful worlds away from the Empire. And that is how I met the beautiful Cassandra.

"I've been looking for you. For many years now," she said as she approached me.

I was sitting alone by a lake then. Had it truly been that long ago?

_What do you want?_

"I was sent here by the command of the Serene Emperor."

_ No thanks. I told him I was done with that life._

"I am here to gather certain power users."

_What for?_

"To form a team. To keep the peace throughout the empire."

_Why me?_

"I have seen the future. It has already been preordained that you will join us."

_Not interested. _I laughed as I walked away.

"You will be... And you should definitely go back."

_Back? To the tower?_

"No. To your wife and son. Before it's too late."

So I returned to the ruins of a planet, destroyed by war. I learned later on, I had missed the attack by an hour. Another mistake to add to my list.

Our house was a burnt shell and inside was a little boy. Hair the color of silver.

_Andrew?_

He looked at me, frightened. His eyes flashed gold, and I was thrown back. I guess my reflexes had... softened, to say the least.

_Andrew. It's me. I'm your…_

"Brother? Is that you?" I had never heard his voice before. He was too young when I left.

Brother? Is that what Sahar had told him?

_Yes, I'm here to take you away from this place._

"No, I don't want to leave."

I said as I sat down beside him. I couldn't really force him. _When did your powers surface? _

"When mom died."

_I'm sorry. For everything._

"Where were you? We needed you."

* * *

My vision blurs. My heart aches. Mask gets through my defense once again and draws a line of blood across my face. Human weakness is such a bother. Dear Reader, you can see this everyday, within yourself and within others. How many times has jealousy or anger clouded your judgment? And how has profound sadness skewed the world around you?

I trained him for a while in the things I did know about using the power. His was definitely similar to mine, and I marveled at how young he had transformed.

"I told them to stop," he revealed to me one day. "But they didn't, and they killed her. In front o' me."

"I blew them into little pieces. I'm a bad person."

_No, you are not. You were only defending yourself._

"But I liked it. I wanted to kill them."

He still looked like a small boy but should have been at least fifteen or sixteen by then. The things I have seen throughout my life, yet this was the thing to surprise me the most.

"I don't want to be here anymore," he said. "Too many memories."

_Let's go. Off-world_.

"Any place in particular?"

_The Earth Imperium. I was invited to attend court years ago. But if you don't want, I'm sure we can find another place._

"No that's fine. Anywhere else but here."

I knew deep down, that the memories he had of this once beautiful place were not the reasons for the change in scenery. I knew he held a deep anger for his father. Me. For having been absent all that time. It's probably why Sahar hadn't told him. Only mentioned that I was the brother "father" had taken. I knew he didn't want his father to be able to find him.

Again, human weakness finds its way into the heart.

When I arrived, I looked up at Soren, sitting on the throne. The palace had been renovated a few more times over the centuries. The look on his face almost made me laugh. It was caught by the courtiers around him. I pushed on Andrew's head, signaling him to kneel. I did so, as well. It had been of my own will that I had relinquished the throne.

_Your Imperial Highness. I come before you as asked and pray that you forgive my tardiness._

"It is good to see you well once again, Nob-"

_I have learned that you wanted me to be part of a team, Your Majesty._ The courtiers around us began to murmur. I knew I had done a great offense by having interrupted him. These weren't the same power hungry courtiers from ages past. Though they were power-users, they were not immortal as I was. They had all died off centuries ago and so I was happy for my anonymity. Only Soren hadn't aged.

_Your messenger, Cassandra, was well to inform me._

"Yes." Soren was finally able to play along once he regained his composure. "A peace keeping force of the strongest power users."

_I am not as strong as I was, Your Highness._

I could sense Andrew looking at me, confused.

_But if I…and my brother… could be of service, we will gratefully take our place as needed._

Movement from behind Soren caught my attention. A group of young looking men and women stood around the Emperor, one of which was Cassandra.

"I am glad you came," she said.

"Are these the ones Cassandra? The other looks very young?"

"Yes, Valerian. They are our most treasured guests." But of course, dear reader, having not known about the ensuing disaster, you may imagine this to be the caustic Valerian you have known all this time. But no, this was his predecessor. I got along well with him. I miss him sometimes.

"And what are their names, Cassandra."

"My name is-" Andrew began to say.

Cassandra put up her hands to stop him. "Once you become one of us, your names will be forgotten. Replaced. Your old life will become just a memory. In this way, we have protected those closest to us."

"I have noone else but my brother."

"Still," Cassandra continued. "It shall be as preordained. Do you still want to continue?"

Andrew looked at me and nodded.

_You already know the answer._

"Well, it would have been rude not to ask," she said. "Cereus, the desert flower."

She came over and kissed me on the cheek, then proceeded to lay her hands on Andrew's shoulders.

"Gentian, the wild. We welcome you both to the Night Blooming Flowers."

So our time with the Bloomers, as we were so maliciously called, began. As I was not as powerful as the others, I was partnered with Valerian. The first one. Gentian took his place with Cassandra, learning strategy and logistics from her.

Those were the good days, I would think. Beginnings usually are. Endings not so much. Valerian and I were assigned to take charge of an obnoxiously large starship. I can still see her now, a deep crimson and gold hull, with six wings rotating around a central axis. It was the peak in engineering and art. She was called the Eosphoros. Dawn bringer. Eos for short. It took hundreds of men and women to run her.

With the Eos, Valerian and I brought peace to the warring planets of the alpha Prime system. I guess our victories made us too arrogant. It was hubris, which must have brought our downfall.

* * *

My vision travels back to the present. The palace has already been reduced to dust. The throne is the only thing remaining.

The young lady over there, huddled under the shields of the Night Blooming Flowers. Snake wasn't it? The beautiful planet of Alyah-Nelaihah. I can see her frolicking in the forests of her home world almost two decades ago. She was still a child then.

Peace was fragile between the power users and the humans. Our job was to prevent the conflict from escalating, to negotiate treaties. Something we had done multiple times had become second nature. Cassandra and Gentian saw nothing overtly special about this planet: whether by temporal or physical means.

The Eos appeared in the upper atmosphere of this world, jumping out of hyperspace, and began its slow descent onto the surface.

"Are you sure you can handle this by yourself?"

_Yes. Stop worrying. My powers have grown sufficiently. I won't be in any danger._

"Remember to keep violence to a minumum. I know you tend to use more force than necessary."

_Roger that. I'll try to keep the children from throwing a tantrum._

"Well, at least stop being so condescending…to everyone. Just a suggestion."

_Haha. Well, once you get to be my age you'll be the same way._

"How old are you anyway?"

_Kids these days. So rude. I'll tell you once I get back. Just open the air lock so I can dive out._

Again, just protocol. Nothing special. I jumped out of the Eos, fell through the clouds, and enjoyed the view of the planet rushing towards me. I felt no fear. Fear had escaped me that day a thousand years ago when I became a power-user.

The ear piece rang after some time, Valerian's voice called through the bit of machinery.

"Ten seconds until you have to start deceleration."

I felt the familiar glow of light surround me. And then something different. Like a spark had flown from me. Actually, it felt like it had been taken from me.

The light came, not from me but from the middle of the city I was to make my landing.

_Valerian there's something wrong_.

"Cereus! I'm reading a massive energy spike! Get out of there!"

I was enveloped in white, and it was followed by pain, as if every particle of my being was being ripped apart. Survival instinct must have kicked in then. Some power from the explosion allowed me to time travel a little bit into future.

Alyah-Nelaihah lay in ruins, and I saw the Eos fall from the sky. I cried tears, the first time in centuries. Like a fireball, it crashed to the ground and the ensuing shockwave threw me off my feet. All my men. All my friends. They were gone.

For a while, I blamed myself. Maybe it had something to do with my growing powers. Maybe they had started to go out of control again. But the answer was no, which left me with a feeling worse than the destruction of the Eos.

It had been a trap. A concerted attack on the Night Blooming Flowers. We were basically annihilated in that one day. The only ones left afterwards were Cassandra, Gentian, the logistics team stationed in the tower, and me. Scratch that. Cassandra may as well have died that day too. She couldn't be consoled and left the team, wandering the world as I had.

And the one responsible for this attack was the person in front of me. Mask. A person from the distant future. The sad and lonely future I had created with my own hands.

To reiterate dear reader, though I can see the paths of time, the future sometimes, and the past, I cannot delve into the hearts of men. Women even less.

* * *

So now, in the present. Mask is underneath me, defeated in a puddle of his blood. He can barely keep the shield holding his body together. The pain from his missing arm registers on his face. His face has changed though some pedomorphic traits still remain. The person before me is an evolutionary success.

"Gentian." The words are hard to say. Was I speaking in the past, the present or the future? I don't even know anymore. "Why did you do such a thing?"

I saw his eyes. Ancient eyes. Unafraid. How far into the future had he come from?

"Brother. Father. I wanted to end it all."

"You killed our friends." My voice is monotonous. I felt nothing now. No emotion. There is just pure curiousity at the reason for all this.

"Father. I have seen this world. So far into the future, where the Scar is all."

"Yes, the Scar is all."

"Hopeless. Everything is hopeless because of that Scar."

"Yes. The death of Time itself," I said. "The negation of all existence."

"Everything _was_ hopeless. Until the two of them came." Gentian smiled.

I looked over at Cornelius and my younger self. So weak and mortal.

"I find them lacking," I said. Then I took my arm over my head, the energy gathering at my finger tips into a blade. "And for you. Farewell, Gentian."

The downward swing of my arm ripped through the air.

**(_No! Don't kill him!)_**

"No!" Someone came between us and my arm is repelled to the side. The young one was now in front of me.

"Andrew. Gentian."

"Brother! Father! Whoever you are! Stop this now!"

"No."

"You've destroyed everything we love! I don't know what you've become!"

"Love? I love nothing. I let go of all attachments. They are superfluous."

"I can't let you do this any longer!"

I looked down at him. "If that's what you want."

**(...)**

Nothing. No more protestations. The Wilbur Robinson inside my head was truly gone.

There is only some resistance as my hand enters his tiny chest. Blood splatters onto my face. Gentian's eyes are wide open. I know that look. Disbelief. Betrayal. The pain hasn't set in yet.

"Cereus...why?"

"You're in my way."

I pull my hand out, and he falls. Without a second glance, I raise my arm again to strike the future Gentian. Mask only smiles.

"Yes. Free me!" he says.

But my hand doesn't move. Poised, but impotent. There is wetness on my face.

"Strange. Why am I crying?"

**_(Gentian...)_**

Then I feel pain as searing heat collides with my back. I turn. Cornelius, my father, holds the weapon in his hand. I felt my powers escaping my body.

"I'm free," I whisper, and for the first time, I felt the hand of death upon me. My limbs become weak. I no longer had the endless energy of a god.

But I didn't feel relief as I thought I would. No. Only hopelessness.

The Scar is now all.

* * *

**Author's endnote:** So yeah. That was a long, grueling chapter to get through. Hopefully it's not too confusing. I was basically inspired to write this chapter after I saw The Watchmen on tv. Dr. Manhattan has to be my favorite character. I actually didn't want this chapter to make too much sense. He is a god of course. His thoughts can't be too human.

And Happy New Year!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Noblesse  
**

"Where…where am I?" Cornelius looks around. The sky is broken into a kaleidoscope of colors. The ground has given way, and he looks over the edge into a bottomless abyss. Cornelius feels the vertigo warping his senses. He steps back to center himself while trying to keep the rising bile down.

Questions. So many questions forming in his head. How did I get here? What happened to Cereus? Did he kill the little boy?

"Dad!" His son's scream fills him with a rush of adrenaline and his mind clears.

Wilbur is crumpled on the floor, his eyes roving in his sockets. They are filled with fear. Cornelius hears him mumble, "Why are we here? We're not supposed to be here!"

"Ah." Nothing but an audible exhale, but it set Cornelius on edge. It came from the stone statue that sat on the throne. A stone statue with the all too familiar mask.

"So you have finally come." The voice is weak but the statue begins to move slowly, his hand around his head, untying the mask from his face. A youthful one with silver locks of hair around his eyes. "It's good to finally see you again, Cornelius. Wilbur."

"It was you? You're the one that pushed me off the edge!" Wilbur exclaims.

"I guess I will have to apologize for that."

"You're Gentian, aren't you?" Cornelius asks. "I thought you were dead?"

"I haven't heard that name…in such a very long time." He looks to the sky. "But then again, time has no meaning here."

Gentian walks around them looking at the colors. "There is neither sun nor moon. Time has been devoured by the Scar. This perimeter around the throne. This is the last vestige of existence."

Cornelius heart sinks. This was not in the predictions of even the brightest minds of his time. This is not the heat death of the universe. This is not the collapse of all mass. This is true oblivion. This is hopelessness.

"And to answer your question, Doctor. I was on the brink of death on that day Cereus stabbed me. But time ended, and I was saved by the eternal stillness. By the Scar. The beginning and also the end."

"The beginning?" Cornelius could hear his mind tick away again, trying to put the pieces of the mystery in their rightful place.

"The Scar is a mad-made inevitability, you see. A paradox, not unlike yourself, grandfather." Gentian's eyes bear into him with its golden light. "The man loved by time."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dad…I think he's talking about that…when Lewis and me went back in time."

"Wilbur is right, Cornelius. I see it from here. It was the slip of your foot, you see." Gentian raises his hand and the image of that night comes into focus. The drenching rain. The singular light over the stoop. His mother looking down onto the baby in her arms.

"Had you not scared her off…she would have taken you back. Time had other plans for you though, and you created the time machine…" His mother hears the scoffing of Lewis' shoe on the wet stairs. She places him back into the basket quickly before running away. "Your very nature is locked in time. Inevitable. And that is why your blood could counter the effects of that mysterious disease."

"An illness." The puzzle is unraveling before him. Cornelius continues, "Without a pathogen or any known source."

"Yes, Doctor."

"And a rip in space, devouring time," Cornelius whispers.

"Yes. You see it now." The image distorts and there is Wilbur as the Golden Emperor, attacking with his power. The sky is ablaze with the destruction of the starships. "The ripping of space opened the Scar. The Scar devoured time, stealing life from humans in all the ages."

"And my blood stabilized that."

"Yes, bestowing the gift of time…on those not loved by time. The power-users were born. Unnatural creatures. Your son, the most unnatural of all."

Wilbur stays silent.

"And the cycle is completed. Your son, with his power, creates the Scar, which caused the creation of the power-users."

Gentian puts a finger to his lips as he says, "It's truly a conundrum. Only one with infinite time...like myself, of course...could tackle such a complex problem.

"Can anything be done to stop it?" Wilbur asks. "To stop me."

"Yes." Gentian walks up to Wilbur. "After an eternity of madness, I regained my sanity. Then, contemplating for eons and eons, I think I've found a way to rid the Scar from the sky. I set the plan in motion, you see...the destruction of the Eos, the release of the Golden Emperor, and his death."

Cornelius could only look away from the guilt. He had pulled the trigger through instinct and saw his son crumble into dust.

"All of that of course, to bring both of you here...together. So Wilbur...are you ready? The price is, I would say, unequivocally steep."

"I'll do anything to make it right!"

"Are you certain?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, father." Gentian embraces the boy. "How I hated you for so long."

And another piece of the puzzle clicks in Cornelius' head. "No, Wilbur!"

A pained gasp escapes Wilbur's lips. His eyes open to their fullest. Horror. To Cornelius, time seems to slow down as the boy falls from Gentian's arm and the hidden dagger exits his heart, covered in blood. The red runs down to Gentian's elbow.

"May you always be worthy of praise, Noble One." Cornelius could feel the hate coating each word. He grabs his son and cradles his body in his arms.

"Hold on! Wilbur! Hold on!"

"Dad. I…I can't feel anything."

"Oh God!" He clutches at the wound. The blood keeps flowing through his fingers like a broken dam. So much blood. "Wilbur! Please!"

"Dad…I'm so sorry."

"No! Don't say anything! You're going to make it." But the evidence was too overwhelming.

"Haha." The boy laughed weakly. "You're really bad at lying, you know that?"

"Don't waste your energy." The life was already leaving his eyes. His hands lay limp across his chest.

"This is the price for what I did."

"No. You didn't do anything to deserve this!"

"But I will…and I can't take knowing how many lives I'll destroy."

Cornelius tightens his hold, pressing his son to his chest.

"It feels…so warm…and nice here." Then the boy's body relaxes into lifelessness.

"You!" Cornelius glares at Gentian. "Why?"

Gentian weeps as he looks at the dagger then at the blood.

"Answer me, damn it!"

"I will send you back in time with my remaining power. And you will have to do the same to the Golden Emperor...before he creates the Scar. The two deaths will cauterize the space-time."

"Why does it have to be me? Why can't you go back to kill him?"

"Do you really have to ask that question, Doctor? I think you know why."

"But why did he have to die first?"

Gentian drops the dagger and walks back to the throne. "_That_ was an unavoidable fact. This place, at the end of time, negates Robinson's second law of time travel. Any other way would have been fruitless."

Cornelius picks the dagger off the floor. The blood has not cooled.

"When you are successful, space time will reset…and this whole tragedy will be averted," Gentian continues. "And you will be able to see your son again."

Cornelius can barely contain his anger. It is taking all his resolve not to slice the weapon across the man's throat.

"Do not let your hatred of me cloud your judgment. Only I can send you back to the past."

"It doesn't mean I'll forgive you for what you did today."

Gentian laughs, the tears still on his face. "Your forgiveness is useless. Your son…my father...his death was not what I wanted. What I want is life. Not this ceaseless eternity. Not this ending.""

"Don't talk to me anymore. Let's...let's just get this over with."

Gentian glows silver and gold. "Then, goodbye forever, grandfather."

The warmth of Gentian's power surrounds him.

"Grandfather. Don't be mistaken...I did love him. More than I loved anyone else. Even more than my own life...I loved him."

But Cornelius is hurled back through time before he could respond, with the world around him spinning. His words are lost in the gust of wind.

* * *

Cornelius opens his eyes. The colors are gone. What replace them are high arched ceilings. The marble floor beneath him shakes. Explosions can be felt from outside the walls. Through the windows, the starships are attacking.

"Who are you? Identify yourself!" The command came from a soldier in armor. His hand is already covered in his power, ready to fire. "how did you get into the palace?"

"I am here to see the Emperor." His throat clenches and the thought remains. Could he kill his own son?

"Put down your weapon!"

The weight of the dagger, the crusts of blood, the feel of metal in his hand. With these thoughts, he grips it even tighter. He must not lose it. At all costs.

"I said 'Put it down!'"

"General. What is the matter?" A figure appears from the doorway.

Cornelius recognizes the voice and when the face emerges from behind the pillar with an escort of power users, he could not resist comparing the two of them together. Cereus and the Golden Emperor. Where Cereus' was full of sadness, the Emperor's is set in stone. Emotionless.

"Noble One. We have an intruder. Please, for your protection…"

"I don't need your protection." The way he says it, with a final certainty and without arrogance, gives a spine tingling jolt of electricity through Cornelius' body.

Then those golden eyes swerve towards him.

"It's good to see you again, Wilbur." But what Cornelius feels is not joy. He is scared. Was this truly his gentle boy?

"Your majesty? Do you know this man?" This time, it is, as far as Cornelius can remember him, the man named Soren who comes forward. Ready to fight.

"Yes." Those eyes then look down to the dagger. To the blood. "Hello, father."

The courtiers begin murmuring amongst themselves. Like sharks in a frenzy.

"When do you come from?"

"I don't even know... So far into the future that there is nothing left."

"Have you come to set right what was wrong?"

"Yes," says Cornelius. He walks forward with the dagger in hand, shaking uncontrollably. Maybe his son would kill him and all would be lost.

"Soren…let no one interfere," says the Golden Emperor as he walks up to meet him.

Cornelius could not keep the tears from flowing. Wilbur was still shorter than him, and as the man looks up, memories of the little baby in his arms spring to mind. So he embraces the boy, pulling as hard as he could, and knowing the betrayal of it all.

The Golden Emperor is unmoved by the sentiment.

"Do it, father. If you believe that this is right..."

He didn't gasp this time. Cornelius wonders if the boy can even feel pain, but he makes sure to dig in deep. Through the third and fourth rib. Through the aorta and the atria. The body falls as the Golden Emperor's feet buckles from underneath him. Soren screams. The courtiers panic. But, all these noises seem muffled to Cornelius' ears. Even the explosions lose their meaning.

Is this how Gentian felt? He wonders.

"Why did you let me?" Cornelius asks softly.

The Golden Emperor smiles as his eyes close. "When I saw you there, with your face like death, I knew that my end was near. My dearest friend."

And Cornelius' question is answered. Why did it have to be him? "Because only I could get close to you..."

"Your Majesty! Please hold on," Soren screams as he tries to push Cornelius away.

"No Soren. Please. Let me rest. I'm so…so tired. Let me rest. It's been so long..."

Cornelius stands on his feet, placing the Emperor's head on Soren's lap. And as the Golden Emperor exhales for the last time, Cornelius is bathed in light.

"What's happening?" Soren asks.

"This time line is dying and a new one is being born."

The castle blows apart like sand in the wind. There is no more sky. No more sun or moon. Their bodies begins to disintegrate. The world is truly ending.

And the very last piece of the puzzle sets.

"Goodbye forever, grandfather. Goodbye…forever." Gentian's words echo. The pain and fear in those words. And acceptance that his existence would never be.

"May you always be worthy of praise, Noble One," Cornelius whispers for the last time.

* * *

The sound of metal cranking. A twist of a bolt here. A wire needing stripping there. From below the gray contraption, only a spike of golden hair can be seen. It weaves left. Weaves right. Then, a hand shoots up and grabs the cup of yogurt left standing on top of this new machine.

"I think that's it. Hopefully this'll be the last time." The thirteen year old boy stands up and closes the hatch, being careful to push all the wires back in. He wipes the sweat of his forehead, only to smear oil across his face.

"Here goes nothing." He crosses his fingers and pushes the bright red button.

It begins to shake, make a high-pitched sound, then stop. A latch opens and the boy smiles.

"Yes! I've done it. The world's most perfect cup of yogurt." He grabs a spoon and digs in. A smile spreads across his face. "Hmm, delicious."

"Now that's a weird reason to invent something, Lewis."

"Well, you can never really appreciate yogurt unless it's made just right. The correct proportions of dairy, fermentation time, and even fruit acidity. I mean, if you're going to eat something, might as well…" He stops. Realization seeps slowly into his face. He slowly turns around to see the familiar boy with black hair curled like a swirly in the front. With that same familiar lightning bolt shirt.

"Might as well what, Lewis?" The all too familiar smirk that exudes youthful confidence. The boy leans against the door with his arms across his chest.

"Wilbur!" He runs and embraces the taller boy. "What are you doing here? I thought we agreed that you shouldn't come back."

"Rules! Shmules! I missed you buddy!" And Wilbur smiles from ear to ear. "Hopefully, it was the same for you."

"Not really. Ow!" Lewis exclaims as Wilbur punches him squarely in the arm. "So how's the family?"

"Same old same old. They're getting on my nerves about this girl-"

"Wait, what? A girl? Aren't you too young to be dating? Did I give you the speech yet? Did I teach you how to put a tie on 'cause you know...that's useful for those fancy dinners."

"Chill out Lewis! Yes, you did. Truthfully, it was the most awkward conversation we've ever had. And you will have to look forward to that someday. Now! Let's me and you just go outside and leave these contraptions behind. How long have you been in here for anyway?"

"Maybe…two or three days." Lewis smiles with that same guilty expression.

"Come on, then. There's a beautiful world out there." Wilbur opens the door and ushers Lewis through it. "And it feels like things are just waiting to happen."

* * *

**Author's Note: The F****** end! **

Thank you for reading the entire story. I know it took a long time. I hoped you enjoyed it, even if for only a little while. I know it started getting crazy confusing at the end. So just tell me what you liked about it, what you didn't like. Maybe yell at me for using comma splices. But again **Thank you. Thank you so much** for giving this fanfic a chance. And now, to move on to actually publishing a novel.


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